CHAPTER XLI. “AFTER LONG GRIEF AND PAIN.” “She left her home, she lost her pride, Forgot the jeering world--ah, me! And followed a knight who fought and bled All for the sake of--chivalry.” Viola did not cry out in despair and faint and fall as they foreboded--she simply bowed her face upon her father’s arm in a silence more terrible and fatal than the wildest grief--the silence of a fond heart breaking in the awful revulsion from hope to despair. The two men looked at each other in silent sympathy; then the judge said, hopefully: “Sometimes these reports from the battle-field are exaggerated--sometimes totally false, as in the case of your reported death. Perhaps this may prove a _cannard_.” “Let us hope so,” said Arthur Linwood; adding: “I was about to suggest that we make further investigations before we give up hope, and as you will not wish to leave your daughter just now, permit me to go and find out if possible the real truth of the matter, which I will report to you as soon as I can.” The judge was only too glad to avail himself of the kindness of the noble young man who already seemed like an old friend, his connection with Rolfe Maxwell forming a bond of union between their hearts. Arthur Linwood bowed himself out, casting back a sympathetic glance at the beautiful bowed head of the hapless girl who knew not whether to call herself wife or widow. He thought, enthusiastically: “It is no wonder that Maxwell told me he had married the most beautiful and charming woman in the world. I have never seen any one to compare with her for beauty and grace, though I have traveled over half the world, and seen many beauties in my time. I am glad she told me so soon that she was married, for my head was in a whirl as soon as I saw her radiant face, and I should have been seas over in love in ten minutes if I had not found out so soon that the case would be hopeless. But now, I pray Heaven, that the news may not be true, and that Maxwell may live for the happiness awaiting him in his young bride’s love. It must have been a terrible mistake that parted them, for if ever I read devotion on a woman’s face it shone on hers in that moment when she met me, believing I was her husband.” Meanwhile, Viola and her father remained at their hotel, waiting in the keenest suspense for news, until some hours later when he returned. “The report is unfortunately true,” he said, sorrowfully. “Poor Rolfe is indeed badly wounded, and the impression is that he must die. But cheer up, my friends, for you know the old saying, while there’s life there’s hope. I have learned that Rolfe has been brought from the battle-field to a hospital near Havana, and I consider it a hopeful sign that he was able to bear the journey. Now I believe that with the aid of the Consul-General we may be permitted to visit the hospital.” Viola looked up and spoke the first sentence she had uttered for hours.