“He is putting himself in my power, and no man has resisted me yet when I chose to exercise it. What fun to lead him on a little just to pay him out for detesting flirts!” When he called for her promptly at ten the next morning, she was quite ready to go, and he started with delight as she came down the steps, her beauty and her costume were alike so flawless, while her bright smile seemed to shed sunshine upon the cold, wintry day. At the foot of the steps a beggar had paused with outstretched hand and a piteous whine--a poor woman with an emaciated, half-starved babe clutched to her breast. Viola paused and gazed at the wretched mendicants, the miserable young mother with her pinched face and unkept garb, and the poor infant with its half-clothed body, and blue, half-frozen toes peeping through ragged hose. Large pitying tears flashed into the girl’s beautiful eyes. Philip Desha thought he had never seen such a contrast in human life as the wretched, starving beggars and the beautiful, happy heiress. He slipped his fingers into his vest pocket for money, but Viola was quicker than he, she had already drawn out her tiny, silk-netted purse and taken from it a shining gold coin, which she pressed into the baby’s skinny little claw, saying in a voice that trembled with sympathy: “There now, tell mamma to buy it a cloak and a pair of shoes, and something to eat.” Philip pressed his silver dollar into the woman’s eager hand, and she burst into tearful thanks and praises. “No, no, don’t thank us; thank God for putting it into our hearts to help you,” Viola murmured, gently, as she turned away to the carriage. Professor Desha helped her in, and closed the door. His heart thrilled with sudden admiration, not so much at the charity, for he knew she could afford it, but at the tender pity and sympathy that had gone with the gift. To his noble heart Viola had looked more beautiful with those tender tears softening the brilliance of her eyes than when sparkling with diamonds in some gala scene she had moved the cynosure of admiring glances. He thought: “She has a true womanly heart in spite of her coquetry.” They drove to his cousin’s home, where they were joined directly by a gay party of a dozen or so accomplished skaters, eager for the sport. Directly they sought the beautiful Potomac, whose glassy surface glittered clear as crystal beneath the deep blue sky and fitful sunshine of a cold and perfect winter day. Viola was an accomplished skater and dearly loved the exercise. She appeared more beautiful upon the ice than in a ball-room. Her perfect complexion glowed with enchanting color, and her luminous eyes caught a peculiar deep blue like the ocean’s waves, her soft, musical laugh disclosed little teeth like rows of pearls between perfect scarlet lips that it would have been Heaven to kiss.