He had hardly dared hope that she would accept him, perhaps he knew it was best she should not, yet her words chilled his heart.
“But you refuse me?” he asked, in a broken voice.
To his joy and surprise her small hand eagerly pressed his arm, and she answered very low:
“No, I will marry you, and I thank you for your offer, for it is the best way out of my trouble, and will help me to revenge myself on Philip and Florian.”
It was not a very flattering acceptance, he felt—not a word for himself, but only a note of rejoicing for her triumph that was to be gained by making a bridge of another man’s heart to reach her longed-for revenge.
She added in a moment, bitterly:
“I do not believe that either one of them has ceased to love me, and when they come to their senses and find out I am married to another, they will suffer all the pangs they caused my heart.”
And she laughed hollowly at her prospective revenge.
“May Heaven help me to win your heart, Viola, and show you the difference between true love and false! And now, as it is getting late, perhaps we had better seek a minister to marry us.”
She started, laughed hysterically, but answered, eagerly: