Judge Van Lew was a quiet, undemonstrative man, absorbed in politics since his wife’s death, and caring little for social diversions; but he was both fond and proud of Viola, and helped his sister Edwina to spoil her to the top of her bent. His daughter knew only the sunny side of his character, but the reverse of it was stern and hard, a fact she was yet to learn to her sorrow.
Leaving Viola to the social chaperonage of Mrs. Herman, Judge Van Lew seldom accompanied her himself to the brilliant functions that she graced with her dazzling beauty, so it was a long time before a shocking event opened his horrified eyes to the fact that his beautiful young daughter was at once the most admired belle and the most reckless flirt in the gay circles where she moved—and this before she had attained her nineteenth birthday. And it came upon him with a shock of surprise.
Viola could not remember that her father had ever given her a cold look or a harsh word, and she started now at the sternness of his tone, exclaiming:
“Papa, I hope you have no bad news for me! You haven’t lost all your money by the failure of some dreadful bank, have you, dear?”
How troubled she looked at the prospect, poor, pretty Viola! and her likeness to her dead mother so touched his heart, that he hastened to reassure her, saying:
“You deserve some ill-fortune; but I have not lost my money. I am not going to tell you that you can have no more new gowns or jewels, or servants to wait on you, or that you will have to move out of this luxurious home into cheap lodgings.”
“Then what is it, dear papa? I am just wild with curiosity,” she replied, uneasily.
“I am going to lecture you, Viola,” he returned, with a sternness that struck terror to her heart.
“Dear me, what have I done, papa?” she exclaimed, in such innocent wonder that he found it hard to go on, she had such an appealing air of injured innocence.
Gathering his courage for the final attack, and steeling his heart against her appealing eyes, he returned, sadly and gravely: