“Really, papa, I meant no harm. I was simply kind to him. I could not tell him to go away because I saw he was learning to love me, could I? And, besides,” hopefully, “you--you would have been furious if I had accepted him, you know you would. He is only a government clerk, you know, and I--have refused a senator, a general, some millionaires--and others,” proudly. He knew that what she said was true. He would not have accepted George Merrington for a son-in-law. He was proud, but withal he was just, and justice ranged him on the side of the discarded suitor. He answered reproachfully: “Subterfuge will not help you, Viola; for a good woman can always find a way to dismiss a man before the affair reaches the point of a proposal, unless the man is a fool and can not read her face; and George Merrington was no fool, though he acted like a madman afterward. You simply coquetted with him, led him on by encouraging smiles and words, just for the amusement of the moment. Is this not true?” “Yes, papa; but I meant no harm. I did not regard it as a serious matter at all. Plenty of girls do the same,” said Viola, frankly, trying to smile him into a good humor. But he remained portentously grave, as he returned: “I believe you have erred through thoughtless vanity, my daughter, and that you do not realize the sacredness of love. That is the only excuse I can find for what you have done. But from today I wish you to turn over a new leaf, and give up this despicable flirting that has so nearly ended in a terrible tragedy that must have lain heavily on your conscience forever. You must promise me today that you will never again lead any man on, to gratify your love of conquest at the expense of his happiness.” His words and looks were so solemn that she exclaimed, almost petulantly: “Papa, you talk of a tragedy. Do you call a harmless flirtation with George Merrington a tragedy?” “A harmless flirtation, Viola! Wait till you hear all,” he exclaimed. “Well, papa, I am waiting to hear all that you will tell me. Did George Merrington come to you to complain of my flirting with him?” sarcastically. To her amazement and indignation, he replied instantly: “Yes; he came from the reception where you had refused the offer of his warm, loving heart, with a girlish laugh and jest, straight to the club where I was sitting with some gentlemen, and he told me the truth about you--that you were the most heartless coquette in the world, and had broken his heart just as you had broken many others. Then crying, ‘Bid her remember she wrecked my life!’ he whipped out a pistol, and before any one could prevent the rash deed, fired a bullet into his breast!” “Ah, Heaven!” shrieked Viola, remorsefully, and sank back like one dying. He bent over her in an agony of pitying love, soothing her back to calmness, saying, gently: