“Ruby, you know I appreciate your kindness, and am sorry Viola has flirted so recklessly, but—but she will never break my heart.”
“But, Phil, every one is saying that you are her latest victim.”
“Her latest and her last,” he replied, significantly; and as she cried out that she did not understand, he added: “You have told me a secret, and I will return your confidence. I promised Viola to keep it till tomorrow, but I do not think she would care if I told you now—under the circumstances.”
“What is your secret?” she cried eagerly, and he answered, proudly:
“Only this: you will receive our wedding-cards tomorrow.”
“Yours—and Viola’s! Do you mean it really, Phil?” she demanded, in astonishment.
“Yes, it is true. We have been engaged ever since January, but Viola wished to keep it secret to spring a great sensation on her friends.”
“She will certainly succeed, for no one ever dreamed she had a heart!” exclaimed the lady; then noticing how very pale he had grown, she added, repentantly: “Dear Phil, forgive me for my blundering! If I had dreamed how matters really stood, I would rather have bitten off the extreme end of my tongue than have tattled to you about young Merrington.”
“I forgive you, Ruby. You thought you were acting for my good, and I appreciate it,” he replied in a hollow voice, and left the house to spend the restless night that sent him to Viola’s side so pale and serious-looking the next morning.
Beautiful Viola, who knew so well how to charm every heart, did not rest till she had chased the shadows from her lover’s brow.