STARTLING NEWS.
Viola paused with quivering lips, the tears hanging heavily on
the curling fringe of her long black lashes. How beautiful, how
unattainable, she looked to the man who had loved and lost her in so
strange a fashion, who had only himself to blame for the thorn in his
heart!
A long, labored sigh heaved his breast, and smote reproachfully on her
ears.
She murmured, faintly:
“Is there not some one else you can love? Florian soon found
consolation.”
“I am not Florian. There will never be any one else for me to love but
you, Viola. I can not change,” he answered, heavily, out of the despair
in his heart.
“I am very, very sorry, but I can not give you any hope,” she repeated,
gently; and he rose to go, so haggard and wan that it went to her
heart, and she cried, remorsefully: “Oh, I have been most cruel to you!
I led you on, or you never could have loved me, despising coquettes as
you did with all the strength of your noble nature. But I have repented
all my follies, and I am a new Viola now, hating myself for all I
did, and most of all for wronging you so deeply I dare not ask you to
forgive me,” generously taking all the blame to herself.
“We all make mistakes in the course of our lives. I forgive you
everything, poor child,” he answered, generously going up to her and
taking her hands in a lingering pressure, as he added, sorrowfully: “My
dream is over. God bless you, and farewell!”
He turned away with an aching heart and left her weeping, with her
fatally lovely face hidden in her hands--weeping for him out of the
pity of her heart.
“He was so noble after all, and perhaps if I had married him I never
should have realized that I was capable of a deeper emotion than the
gentle affection I felt for him,” she thought; then her mind wandered
to the dead, and she sobbed, miserably, yearningly:
“Oh, Rolfe, my darling, could you but return and know how I have loved
you all the while!”
Meanwhile Judge Van Lew and his sister had retired to the library and
were perusing the evening papers, having felt it best to leave Viola
alone with her lover, feeling that a reconciliation would take place.
Suddenly Aunt Edwina started and leaned across the table, putting her
shaking finger on a paragraph in her paper, while she exclaimed:
“Good heavens, Edmund, read this!”
He obeyed, and then they stared at each other with ashen faces.
“Can it be true?” she queried.
“Very likely. And I should hope so if it were for her happiness; but
what a time for it to happen, just as she is making up with Desha!”
half groaned the judge.
“Ought we to go and tell them now?” she asked, nervously.
“No; let us wait till he is gone, and break it as gently as possible.
Poor Viola, will she be glad or sorry, I wonder?” mused the judge, and
his sister answered, thoughtfully:
“To judge from the way she has carried on, I should say glad; but still
I believe it was all for effect and to punish Desha. Why, there he is
going now!” she added, starting up from her seat.
“Then you can take the paper and show her the paragraph, Edwina,”
suggested her brother.
“Not me! You must break it to her yourself,” she insisted; and the
upshot of it was that they went presently together to Viola, who dashed
away the lingering tears and turned to meet them with a pensive smile.
The judge began with a sorry attempt at cheerfulness.
“I--er--so I suppose you and Professor Desha have been making it up,
dear?”
To his relief she answered, frankly:
“I have passed through a very unpleasant scene, papa. He came to offer
me his hand again.”
“And you--you accepted,” he began, nervously.
“No, papa, I refused him. I found out long ago that it was but a
passing fancy I had for him, and that if my poor Rolfe had lived I
could have loved him more than any other man I ever knew,” Viola
answered, sorrowfully.
“Then you will be very glad to read this paragraph, my dear,” the judge
exclaimed, gayly, pointing it out to her with a shaking finger.