“Sweetheart, name the day for me,
When we twain shall wedded be.”
Viola had a secret grudge against Professor Desha, but it was so
childish, she would have been ashamed to let any one know it.
She was piqued at him because he was the only man she knew who appeared
quite indifferent to her charms.
In fact, a spiteful rival had told her that he had expressed himself
strongly as holding coquettes in lively detestation.
“He is a simpleton, and nothing would please me better than to break
his heart!” exclaimed Viola, scornfully; but whether the young
congressman ever heard of this wicked speech or not, he did not give
her the chance she wished. He held himself coldly and disapprovingly
aloof, and paid attention “to the homeliest girls he met,” so Viola
said, “wall-flowers that no one else would look at twice.”
Consequently, she came to have a secret angry interest in the
delinquent while pretending to hold him in profound contempt.
She knew that he had a noble nature, as Florian said, and that he
cherished high ideals. He was good to look at, too, in his blonde type,
with his fair hair and beard, and large clear blue eyes, and frank,
kindly expression. But Viola would never have thought of him twice if
he had fallen at her feet like the rest.
He excited her interest by his own astonishing indifference, and she
had many speculations over it, always ending by the explanation that
very likely he had a sweetheart in the State he had come from up
North--“some goody-goody nonentity like himself.”
She was rather vexed that Florian was fond of him, and was going to
paint his portrait, for she might have to meet him at the studio
sometimes. Well, she would find out the days he was to come, and stay
away herself at those hours.
So her bow, when they passed each other on the steps, was even more
cold and uplifted than usual.
“He shall see how little I care for him,” she thought, with a pride
that sent the hot blood mantling warmly to her cheek.
She stepped quickly into the carriage, and gentle old Aunt Edwina said:
“What a noble face and head Professor Desha has! Don’t you admire him,
Viola?”
“No, not at all,” the young girl answered, huffily.
But in spite of her resolve not to meet her _bête noire_ at the studio
again, she encountered him there twice the next week. It was all by
the merest chance, for how was she to know what hour he chose for his
sittings?
On both of these occasions Viola had perforce to make herself agreeable
to the young congressman, for she did not like to offend Florian by
a contrary course. So she remained a short while on each call, and
she pretended a simple friendliness with Professor Desha. He had to
acknowledge to himself that she was fascinating, yet he could not say
that he had observed the least coquetry in her manner, the least
effort to win his admiration. Perhaps, he said to himself, she did not
consider him worth her while. He knew that Florian Gay’s heart was at
her feet, and supposed that this would afford her sufficient present
amusement.
Yet he looked forward with secret pleasure to meeting her again at the
studio. How beautiful she had looked in the rich artistic room, and
how much more womanly and sweet she had appeared than when in social
circles surrounded by the inevitable group of admirers!
But he did not meet her at the studio again.
The sittings for the portraits came to an abrupt end.
Florian Gay came unexpectedly one day to call upon his betrothed.
He was pale and agitated. She saw at once that he had received bad news.
A cablegram from his aged mother had conveyed the news that his father
had suffered a stroke of paralysis at Carlsbad Springs, whither he had
gone a few months previous for his health.
They had anxiously desired to have Florian accompany them, but his
passion for Viola had made him refuse. He could not tear himself away
from the land that held his idol. He remained, and was rewarded by
Viola’s acceptance of his suit.
But now he must acquiesce in his mother’s entreaty for his presence by
the couch of his dying father. He must go, and there was no telling
how long he might be obliged to stay, paralysis was such an uncertain
disease. The invalid might die before he reached Germany, or he might
linger for months. He might even get well again.
Florian was deeply grieved, and most anxious to go to his father; but
the pain of leaving Viola tore his jealous heart like a keen knife.
She was so capricious that she might forget him while he was gone. She
might find some one she loved better and throw him over, as she had
once gayly threatened.
The anguish of the thought almost took his breath away.
He determined on a bold step. He would entreat her to consent to a
quiet marriage and go abroad with him.
“If she loves me half as well as I love her she will be willing to do
as I wish, rather than face a separation of uncertain duration,” he
said to himself, and plunged boldly into the subject, encouraged by the
dismay and sympathy with which she received his news.
“You will miss me a little, Viola, my darling?” he cried, eagerly, when
he saw the bright eyes softened with the dew of tears.
“More than a little, dear Florian!” she cried, warmly, for her really
tender heart was softened by his grief. It pained her, too, to have
him go away like this. There was no one else whose society was half so
agreeable.
Taking quick advantage of her tender admissions, he plunged into the
subject nearest his heart, begging her to marry him tonight or tomorrow
and go with him abroad.
Viola was speechless at first with astonishment. When she caught her
breath, she refused promptly.
“I thought you pretended to love me,” he cried, reproachfully.
“So I do, Florian, very dearly, but not enough to marry you offhand
without a _trousseau_.”
“Bother the _trousseau_! You would order it from Paris, anyway, so you
can get it just as easily when we go over.”
“I am not ready to be married yet, Florian, _trousseau_ or no
_trousseau_. I don’t want to be married so young.”
“But, darling, how long do you expect me to wait?”
“Until I choose to name the day, sir, and if you get too impatient, you
are welcome to take back your freedom,” saucily.
“Oh, Viola, I should never wish to do that!” he groaned, clasping
her little jeweled hand and pressing his hot lips upon it while he
continued: “Viola, I may be absent for months, and I shall go mad with
jealousy of the fortunate men who will be near you, who can feast their
eyes on your beauty and hear your sweet voice and rippling laughter.
Oh, are you sure, quite sure, that your love will last while I am gone,
that you will be true to your promise?”
“If you can not trust my love, if you are beginning to doubt me
already, we had better break off now!” she cried, spiritedly.
“My beautiful love, how can you torture me so when I am already so
unhappy?” groaned Florian.
“Then why will you be so silly? Do you not know that I have never loved
any one but you, Florian, and never shall?” cried Viola, rashly, melted
to tenderness by his grief and really feeling very sad indeed over his
going, so that she took a very lukewarm emotion for eternal love.
Florian was transported with joy over her fond declaration, and again
renewed his entreaties for an immediate marriage, but was soon warned
off by her rising vexation.
“I must go and make my preparations for leaving at once,” he said,
sadly, rising. “Oh, Viola, it breaks my heart to leave you, my precious
one! Will you promise to write to me often if I am detained long?”
pleadingly.
“I am not fond of writing letters, dear, but I will try not to neglect
you while you are gone. If they are very short, you must not mind,
because I am so busy.”
“_Busy!_” he echoed, with slight sarcasm, and she flushed slightly,
exclaiming:
“Why will you take one up so? You know the demands of a social life are
very pressing. But I dare say I shall not enjoy myself at all now, I
shall be missing you so much,” her voice breaking and tears actually
brimming over in her eyes.
Florian caught her in his fond arms and kissed them away. Then they had
such a sad leave-taking that the emotional girl allowed her betrothed
to persuade her to name the wedding-day as soon as he should return
from abroad.