CHAPTER IX.
“A MAN’S HEART IS NOT SIMPLY A TOY!”
Before Viola went to the Capitol that morning she had gone through something of a scene with her father.
After breakfast he had asked her to come with him to the library for a few moments.
Fondly slipping her little hand through his arm, she had danced along by his side, exclaiming curiously:
“Papa, dear, what makes you look so grumpy this morning?”
“You will soon know,” he replied, sternly, handing her a chair.
Judge Van Lew was a fine looking man about fifty years old, whose life had been prematurely saddened by the loss of two beautiful sons in their early childhood, and afterward of his wife, when Viola was eleven years old.
Mrs. Herman, his widowed sister, had very willingly agreed to preside over his household when, several years before, he had accepted a high position in Washington and removed there from his native state, West Virginia, where he had occupied a seat on the judicial bench.
Viola had been educated at a high-class boarding-school in Baltimore, and only a year ago had graduated and made her entrée into Washington society. Her grace and beauty and sprightliness had at once made her a much-admired belle.