THE LETTER THAT CAME TOO LATE.
“Where is the heart that hath not bowed,
A slave, eternal Love, to thee?
“Look on the cold, the gay, the proud,
And is there one among them free?”
“Viola is taking a protracted beauty-sleep this morning,” observed Mrs.
Herman at breakfast, next day, seeing her brother glance impatiently
at his daughter’s empty chair. Judge Van Lew, who was a stickler for
punctuality at meals, immediately sent a servant to call Viola, and the
meal proceeded in silence.
Presently the neat maid Eliza came tripping in excitedly.
“Miss Viola’s door has been locked ever since ten o’clock last night,
and she is not up yet,” she said.
“Go and knock upon the door,” said Mrs. Herman.
“Oh, ma’am, I’ve knocked time and again this morning, but she does not
answer me. It’s strange for Miss Viola to sleep so late, and--and--I’m
almost frightened!” the girl whimpered in alarm.
“Go and knock again very loudly, and if she does not respond, I will go
myself,” Judge Van Lew said, sternly.
He pushed back his plate and began to glance over the morning papers
while the placid Mrs. Herman sipped her coffee.
Suddenly she heard a strange choking sound, and glanced up in alarm to
see her brother lying back in his chair, his face purple, his breath
coming in excited gasps.
She jumped up and hurried to his side, gasping:
“Oh, what is it, Edmund? Are you ill?” foreboding an apoplectic seizure.
Judge Van Lew struggled for speech, then blurted out, thickly:
“Read!”
Then she saw that he still clutched the newspaper in his hand, and
snatching it wildly, she saw what had shocked him so--the sensational
announcement of Viola’s elopement.
Mrs. Herman dropped heavily into a chair, almost fainting with the
shock, and just then Eliza returned.
“I have knocked and knocked--and rattled and pounded--but she does not
hear me! I’m afraid she must be dead, sir!” she exclaimed, fearfully.
The stricken man held up his hand, and muttered, harshly:
“Go!”
She retreated in alarm, leaving the door wide open in her dismay, and
the next moment her voice echoed back to them from the hall in tones of
glad surprise:
“Oh, Miss Viola, so you went out for an early walk, did you? Well, that
is a splendid way to brighten your color for the wedding! But why did
you lock the door? You have given us all such a fright!”
Viola pushed past her without a word, and hurried into the dining-room.
When she saw the two elderly people in the shocking state caused by the
news of her elopement, it made her heart ache with tenderness and pity.
She rushed to them, crying wildly, imploringly:
“Oh, papa!--oh, auntie! don’t look so wretched, please! I want you both
to forgive me!”
She flung her arms about her father and covered his purple, distorted
face with piteous kisses, the tears raining from her eyes.
“Papa, darling, won’t you forgive your naughty Viola?”
For answer he pushed her violently from him with all the strength he
could exert in his weakened state.
She caught the back of a chair, or she must have fallen.
“Papa!” she gasped, reproachfully.
Judge Van Lew staggered up to his feet, his anger helping him to get
the better of his weakness.
He thundered, angrily:
“How dare you darken my doors again, you wicked girl, after what you
have done?”
Mrs. Herman clutched his arm imploringly, but he shook her off in a
rage, repeating:
“How dared you return, I say?”
“To--to--beg you to forgive me, papa,” faltered the pallid bride,
fearfully.
“Forgive you--never! You have broken a good man’s heart by your
accursed fickleness, and disgraced me forever, and I will disown and
disinherit you, leaving you nothing but an outraged father’s curse on
my death-bed!” stormed Judge Van Lew, in a fury that was dangerous to
his life, so purple grew his face, while the knotted veins stood out
like whip-cords on his brow.
Viola’s own quick temper blazed up at his charges, her pale cheeks
flamed, and the tears dried up in her eyes as she answered, spiritedly:
“I came to ask you to forgive me, papa, not to listen to abuse! But
since you refuse to pardon me, and threaten me with disinheritance,
I can be as proud as you are! I suppose I can live without your
forgiveness and without your money, too, since my dead mother’s fortune
comes to me on my marriage!”
“Ha! ha! does it indeed? So that is what made that fortune-hunting
wretch so bold in stealing you from Philip Desha--the hope of handling
your rich inheritance! But how chagrined he will be on learning that
your mother made the condition that unless you married with my approval
the money should revert to me! And I assure you that you will never
receive one penny to reward you for your treachery. And as for the
villain you have married--”
“Hush!” Aunt Edwina muttered, shaking his arm, rebukingly.
Viola, as white as a sheet, her eyes dim and glazing, turned toward the
door; but her aunt called out, pityingly:
“Viola, my dear, see, there is a letter on your plate waiting for you.
They say it came at daylight this morning, but your door was locked,
and you could not be aroused.”
The girl caught up the large, square white envelope, tore it open
mechanically, and ran her heavy eyes over its contents.
Then the two who watched her heard a loud shriek of dismay. Viola
tottered and fell unconscious to the floor.
Her father darted forward, seized the letter, and quickly mastered its
contents.
“This explains something of the mystery!” he cried, thrusting it into
Mrs. Herman’s hand, and adding, furiously:
“Viola shall never return to that villain, Rolfe Maxwell--never! never!
unless it be over my dead body! I will keep her locked up in this house
until she consents to apply for a divorce, do you hear?”
“Oh, Edmund!” she whimpered; but she saw that it would be quite useless
to plead with the enraged father.
The senseless form of Viola was borne tenderly to her room, and her
aunt and maid vied with each other in their efforts to restore her to
her saddened life.