CHAPTER XI.
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.