“I knew it would shock you terribly, Viola, but it had to be told. Indeed, I feared you had heard it already. It must be a lesson to you hereafter never to amuse yourself at flirting again. A man’s heart is not simply a toy.” “Dead! dead! and through my folly! Oh, what a bitter thought!” sobbed the poor girl, remorsefully. But her father answered: “No; thank Heaven, the wound was not a mortal one. The bullet was meant for his heart, but it was deflected from its course by a silver card-case in his breast-pocket, and imbedded itself in a less vital point. He was removed to Garfield Hospital, and will very likely recover.” “But every one will be talking about it and blaming me. I can never hold up my head again!” moaned Viola, and strangely enough, the keenest inward pang was the instant thought: “What will Professor Desha say about it?” To her joy and relief, her father answered, kindly: “I have taken care of that, Viola, for your sake. There were but three men with me when young Merrington burst in upon us, and I have persuaded them to keep the truth a secret. The poor fellow himself is glad now, that he did not die, and glad that I invented a clever story to account for his accident. We told his mother, who was frantic with grief, that he was showing us a pistol supposed not to be loaded--common occurrence, you know--and it went off and wounded him. He will get well, I think; and as for you, dear, you must, as I said just now, turn over a new leaf.” Viola clung to his neck, sobbing remorsefully: “Oh, I will--I will, papa, if you will forgive me for the past! I hate flirting now, and will never be so thoughtless any more!” CHAPTER X. THEIR MEETING. Viola sought her own apartments in a whirlwind of contending emotions, and threw herself upon a couch to sob and moan in passionate excitement. Her father’s words and poor Merrington’s fate made her realize for the first time something of the enormity of what she had done. She saw that her father was ashamed of her, and the pang cut deep, for she was proud of his love and his good opinion. She remembered that Professor Desha had also expressed himself strongly against her flirtations. Perhaps that was why he had withdrawn himself from her society, despising her for the same things that her father had so bitterly condemned. Both of them she knew were high-minded men, and had a right to have their opinions respected. Now that her folly and thoughtlessness had been shown her so plainly, Viola began to feel ashamed and remorseful over what had heretofore been her pride and delight. “Oh, I am so sorry, so sorry!” she cried, remorsefully. “Indeed I did not realize that I was causing real pain to any one. But now I will never flirt again!” While she was bathing her pink eyelids with _eau-de-Cologne_ to remove the tell-tale trace of tears, Aunt Edwina came gliding in, and exclaimed: “Oh, my dear, what is the matter? You have been crying!”