“When your mother died her private fortune was a quarter of a million, and by judicious investments I have doubled the amount. Here are the necessary papers that make you mistress of a half million dollars, and if you can make this contribute to the happiness that my error so cruelly jeopardized, I shall be more than gratified.”
Viola did not feel as if the wealth of the world could add to her happiness just now, but she would not wound her father by telling him the truth. She accepted his gift in the same loving spirit in which it was conferred, thanking him with a tender caress, and saying that she should not know what to do with so much money.
Her heart cried in secret:
“Oh, if Rolfe were but alive to share it with me, how happy we might be! Alas! I can never be happy now, for I have learned too late that I loved him with a passion never dreamed of when I fancied myself in love with others!”
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE PORTRAIT.
Viola’s physician had said that she must have change of scene, and at first she had rebelled, preferring to remain at home and brood over her troubles.
But with the lapse of time she began to see that it would be wiser to go away.
As soon as she became convalescent, her social world turned out en masse to make calls of condolence on the lovely young widow.
From a few she met real sympathy, from the many that veiled curiosity that drives one frantic.