“By and by I shall have conquered myself, then I can meet her again with indifference,” he promised himself. But that by and by was slow in coming, he could not deny that to himself. He thought one reason was that he heard so much about her, for the young men found her beauty a favorite topic. She scarcely ever missed a social function, and he heard more than ever of her beauty and her coquetry. “She is at her old trade of winning hearts. Apparently she has forgotten her pretty penitence that day for her petty vanities,” he thought, bitterly. He never forgot the day when he made his first speech of any length in Congress, and lifting his eyes to the galleries, suddenly saw her sitting in the crowd with her great luminous eyes fixed on his face, apparently drinking in every word he uttered with as keen an interest as if the political questions of the day were her favorite topics. It gave him a great start to see her there so unexpectedly, and to meet the intent gaze that was so flattering to his oratorical powers. For a moment his voice broke with sheer surprise, and he swept his hand across his face to hide the deep flush that mantled it, only to be succeeded by deathly pallor as he went on with his speech, but not so eloquently as before, palpably unnerved by her presence and her scrutiny--the bashfulness of a true man in love. For fight his passion as he might, Philip Desha had not yet succeeded in ousting it out from his heart. It was six weeks since he had seen her, but he thrilled and trembled with emotion now as he bowed to the speaker of the house, and resumed his seat amid the applause of the galleries, but not daring to look up again lest he meet the gaze of her speaking eyes and be outdone by her fatally luring beauty. It seemed to him that he could feel her eyes burning on his face, wonderingly, reproachfully, that he had ignored her so long. Strong man as he was, he trembled, feeling that he had to begin all over again the struggle with his heart. “There must be something uncanny about the girl. She has bewitched me. I can not get free from her Lorelei spell,” he told himself, with something like fear of his enslaver, and suddenly rising, he hurried from the hall as though to escape some evil influence. Unfortunately he was detained by some one in the lobby several minutes, and presently getting out into the corridor, started back in dismay, meeting Viola and her aunt face to face. 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.