She did not spare herself; she did not gloss over anything; she accused herself as if she had been some one else; and then she waited for his decision, after saying, piteously:
“Perhaps you will think that I fully deserve my punishment.”
She did not know herself how piteously she awaited his reply, crushed and humiliated by the experiences of the night, and longing for something to rehabilitate herself in her own esteem. Her whole heart seemed to hang tremblingly on his next words.
Would he still proclaim himself her friend when he knew what a wicked little flirt she had been, and how cruelly she had been punished?
But Rolfe Maxwell had heard of her coquetries long before, and had always made excuses for her in his heart.
It seemed to him that one so rarely gifted by nature and fortune could not be entirely to blame. Royally dowered with beauty and fascination, she commanded love without seeking it; and perhaps, in her youth and innocence, she did not indeed value the emotion at its true worth. Had she not confessed to him her dismay at her father’s lecture, and the changed life she had led afterward, save for her cowardice in confessing the truth to Florian?
So he replied, warmly:
“Your punishment was greater than the offense warranted. I should say that Professor Desha and Florian Gay were both lacking in some of the elements of true manliness, or they never could have served you so ill a turn. I should say that your father would be perfectly right to call Desha to account.”
“Oh, no, no, never! Papa must never know how I have been treated. But I am so glad you take my part, that you think they were to blame!” cried poor Viola, gratefully.
“Yes, I take your part. You have been shamefully treated; but I should say that in my opinion you are well rid of both of the poltroons. Such love as theirs was not worth having,” the young man cried, indignantly; adding: “But I have said I would be your friend. Trust me now, and tell me what I can do to help you. Perhaps if I should go and reason the case with Philip Desha, he might stoop from his haughty pedestal and return to his allegiance.”