PLAYING HER PART.
“Alas! if love do not reveal
His warmth to stamp the marriage seal,
Then grief and bitter woe betide
The wedded lord and hapless bride!”
Mrs. Maxwell and Rolfe soon had the tiny spare room bright and cozy for
Viola, and while the young girl still slept on wearily in the parlor,
he made a bungling explanation of his marriage.
“I did not mean to shock you, mother, but this was a rather sudden move
on my part. The truth is, that I carried Viola off from another man
that she expected to wed tomorrow, and her father will be very angry,
of course; but the sensation will soon blow over. Very unfortunately,
I am obliged to go to New York on business tonight, and must leave my
bride in your care.”
She thought it would look very strange leaving his young bride on his
wedding-night, and she said so frankly.
The hot color surged up to the roots of the clustering black curls on
his brow, then receded, leaving him deathly pale again, as he answered,
quickly:
“Viola will understand the necessity. Besides, I will leave a little
note that will explain. I will soon be back--probably tomorrow
evening.”
He took her hand, and said, earnestly:
“Dear mother, you have always been good to your boy, but I see that
I have strained your love tonight. Will you try to forgive me for
disappointing your wishes about Mae, and be kind to my precious Viola?”
“Of course I will, Rolfe,” she answered.
But he persevered:
“She will need more than kindness--she will need real motherly
tenderness and sympathy, for she is nervous and troubled over the shock
she has given her father, and is likely to be very unhappy for some
time. You will know how to comfort her, will you not, dear mother?”
His voice was so eager and anxious that she answered yes, promising her
heart to do her duty by Rolfe’s wife, in spite of her secret resentment
for poor Mae’s sake.
When he had left the house she returned to the parlor, and found Viola
still sleeping so soundly that she had not the heart to rouse her
yet. She drew up a chair and waited awhile, gazing admiringly at the
beautiful creature.
Presently Viola stirred restlessly, sighed, and opened her large
dreamy eyes upon the unfamiliar scene, and the strange face of her
mother-in-law.
“Oh!” she uttered, in a dazed voice, sitting quickly erect.
“Do not be alarmed, my dear, you have fallen asleep in your chair and
been dreaming. You are here in Rolfe’s home safe with his mother,” said
the lady, gently.
A gleam of comprehension flashed into Viola’s eyes, and she sighed
heavily:
“I remember--everything.”
“I have a bit of sad news for you, my dear.”
“Yes?” inquiringly.
The answer was a sealed letter.
Viola took it in surprise, and opened it, reading with dilated eyes:
“MY PRECIOUS WIFE,--I mentioned to you tonight that I had an offer
to go to Cuba as a war correspondent for a newspaper, and I find it
almost necessary to go to New York tonight to make the requisite
arrangements for immediate departure.
“This happens very fortunately for you under the circumstances.
“You will not be compelled to assume as yet the duties of a wifehood
that would be repugnant to you now, though I hope at some future day
to teach your heart the sweet lesson of love. Am I presumptuous?
“We must keep up the farce of love--no farce on my part--to blind the
world, and make it believe in the honesty of the _coup d’état_ by
which you came out of the affair with Desha with flying colors. Do
not lay aside for a moment the pretense that the force of love alone
caused your elopement.
“Above all, spare my gentle mother any knowledge of the real truth. It
will not take much acting to please her gentle heart with the fancy
that I am dear to you. May the fancy some day become reality.
“I have dared kiss you good-bye as you slept. I hope you will rest
easy till my return tomorrow evening. I will give orders for the
morning papers to be sent you.
“Devotedly,
ROLFE.”
Viola read the short letter slowly and lingeringly, and then thrust it
into her bosom.
The woman who watched her saw her lips quiver, and said, tenderly:
“I told Rolfe it was hard for him to go tonight, but he seemed to think
you would not blame him, dear.”
“No, no; I understand,” the girl answered, quietly; then suddenly hid
her pale face in her hands, while a burning crimson flushed up to her
brow at the deceit she must practice on the kind soul who thought
she was grieving because of Rolfe’s absence, while instead she was
unutterably grateful to him for his chivalrous consideration.
Until this moment Viola had been so absorbed in her revenge that she
had scarcely given a thought to the man she had married.
Yet he, gently and unobtrusively, had considered everything, planned
everything, that her treasured vengeance need not go awry, while at the
same time she need not pay too dear a price for the victory. Loving her
with all the strong passion of manhood, he would not force his love
on her sore heart. He would be patient and bide his time, though not
concealing the tenderness of his hope.
Mrs. Maxwell, full of the thought of comforting her, exclaimed:
“Ah, my dear, how soundly you slept! It is wonderful that Rolfe did
not wake you while he knelt by you, kissing your face, your hands, and
your hair in good-bye. He said: ‘Mother, is she not beautiful--the most
beautiful girl in the world? I can not tell you how fondly I love her.
Ever since the first day I saw her she has been growing into my heart,
taking such deep root there that I shall love her forever!’” She
stopped, for Viola’s stony calm had suddenly broken up in a storm of
sobs.
Mrs. Maxwell thought, tenderly:
“Poor dear, how she loves him, and what a grief it is that he had to
leave her tonight! Well, well, I must coax her to bed, so that I can go
back and reason with dear Mae, for I encouraged her in her love for my
son, and now I must help her to throw off its chains!”