TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF.
So when the evening of the Van Lew reception arrived, the young
congressman ventured to go, deeming unwisely that security for himself
lay in Viola’s indifference.
He was a very clever politician, but a mere tyro in matters of the
heart.
Viola and her aunt were receiving, assisted by a bevy of handsome
matrons and fair young girls. When she saw Desha bowing before her, she
gave him a courteous welcome, just tinged with the delicate frostiness
under which he had shivered that day at the Capitol.
It was superb acting, for her heart leaped wildly at the conventional
touch of his hand.
But she said proudly to herself:
“He shall not know I am glad he came.”
And she looked quickly away from him, without observing that he stood
still a minute, half dazed by her marvelous beauty, so richly set off
by the silvery white gown and the fire of rubies on her neck and in her
hair.
Turning away presently, he sighed, with a paling cheek:
“After all, it was not wise to come. I shall be dreaming of her all
night. Heavens! how peerless she is! And, alas! how heartless!”
All at once he began to be afraid of himself, afraid to go near her,
lest he should fall down at her feet and declare his passion, so
intoxicated had he suddenly become with the charm of her presence. He
was almost tempted to run away.
“‘But most of all would I flee from the cruel madness of love,
The honey of poison-flowers and all the measureless ill.’”
Viola had no suspicion of what was passing in his mind. She was careful
to avoid him, in her humility over her father’s lecture.
She remembered with shame how she had once tried to attract him, and
how he had proved his indifference to her arts by remaining away.
Very well; she would show him that she was changed, that she too, was
indifferent now.
The guests found a new dignity in her manner, a subtle change not
easily defined. There was no lingering in alcoves with some spell-bound
adorer, no arch glances, sudden, swift, and strange, bewildering
masculine hearts.
Sweetly cordial to all, she yet kept strictly to her resolve to “turn
over a new leaf.”
He came upon his cousin, Mrs. Wellford, presently, and the handsome
young matron said, curiously:
“What has come over Viola tonight? Every one is saying there is
something almost sad about her manner. Do you think she can really be
grieving about young Merrington, as some are hinting?”
“Young Merrington! I know nothing of him,” he replied, with a start.
“True; you have been out of the swim for more than a month, Phil.
Indeed, I was surprised to see you here tonight. Well, as I was
saying, this young Merrington--a handsome boy of twenty-two, a
government clerk, the _protégé_ of Senator Costigan--was Viola’s latest
flirtation.”
“Ah!”
“I never saw any one so madly, foolishly in love in my life,” said the
matron. “It was tiresome to see him mooning about after the wicked
little flirt. Every one was wishing he would propose and get his
_congé_, so that we might get some new affair on the _tapis_ to amuse
us, when quite suddenly it ended almost tragically. He was fooling with
a pistol the other night--unloaded, of course,” satirically, “and he
put a bullet in his breast.”
“Not dead?”
“No, not yet; but at Garfield Hospital in a precarious condition. And
they say Viola is secretly taking it hard. She can not bear to hear it
alluded to at all, growing pale and nervous, and almost weeping. And
she is certainly changed--no more flirting, no more gayety save of the
most dignified kind. How strange if she had really lost her heart to
him after all!”
His face paled and his heart beat violently with a keen, stinging pain.
Was it jealousy of young Merrington who had wrought in her that subtle
change he had wondered over?
He said, slowly:
“What if it be remorse, not love? What if he had already received his
_congé_? What if the accident--was not an accident?”
Mrs. Wellford shuddered.
“What a terrible suggestion! Fortunately for Viola’s peace of mind, it
is not true. My husband was one of the men who witnessed the accident.
It shocked him so much, he does not like to go over the details even to
me,” replied Mrs. Wellford, innocently.