“Since I must love thee—since a weird, wild fate
Impels me to thy heart against my will—
Do thou this justice to the soul I yield:
Be its ideal. Let it not blush to love.
* * * Be noble, truthful, brave,
Love honor more than Love, and more than me.”
When Viola was well enough to receive callers again, Professor Desha was among the first announced.
Since the day of her accident his heart had been in a tumult of emotion.
He had realized that the interest he took in the fair coquette was deep and painful—painful because he deemed it no less than a calamity to lose his heart to one like Viola, who only played at love, and seemed to have no conception of its depth and sacredness.
Although he was in his dignified way a very attractive man, he did not have enough personal vanity to suppose that he could succeed in winning her heart where so many others had failed—even Florian Gay, so young and handsome, and much richer than himself.