“Not with this man, much as I would like to for the sake of going with you. But I’ve been badgering him ever since he came to Congress for a few sittings, and he has at last promised to begin this day--in fact, this very hour.” “Who is my important rival?” “Professor Desha.” Viola instantly made a rosy _moue_ of disdain, and exclaimed: “I hate that man! He is too goody-goody!” “He is a very noble and upright man, and I am particularly anxious to paint his portrait. His fine head and face remind me somewhat of the old masters’ pictures of Christ!” exclaimed Florian Gay, warmly. “You are partial to him because he was your professor at college,” she retorted. “Perhaps so, but it is because that gave me an opportunity to know his value better. Philip Desha is a noble fellow, with grand principles and high ideals, and I am sorry that he yielded to ambition and let his people elect him to Congress. Politics will prove a severe test to his upright character,” he answered with more seriousness than he usually displayed. “Come, auntie, we must be going,” cried Viola, pettishly, waking up her aunt, and taking an abrupt leave in her fear of meeting her lover’s next sitter. But she did encounter him coming up the steps, a very dignified looking man of medium size, and about thirty years old, with as the artist had remarked, a grave, noble, serene countenance much like the ideal heads of Christ. They bowed to each other with marked _hauteur_, and Viola passed on to her waiting carriage. CHAPTER II. “Sweetheart, name the day for me, When we twain shall wedded be.” Viola had a secret grudge against Professor Desha, but it was so childish, she would have been ashamed to let any one know it. She was piqued at him because he was the only man she knew who appeared quite indifferent to her charms. In fact, a spiteful rival had told her that he had expressed himself strongly as holding coquettes in lively detestation. “He is a simpleton, and nothing would please me better than to break his heart!” exclaimed Viola, scornfully; but whether the young congressman ever heard of this wicked speech or not, he did not give her the chance she wished. He held himself coldly and disapprovingly aloof, and paid attention “to the homeliest girls he met,” so Viola said, “wall-flowers that no one else would look at twice.” Consequently, she came to have a secret angry interest in the delinquent while pretending to hold him in profound contempt. She knew that he had a noble nature, as Florian said, and that he cherished high ideals. He was good to look at, too, in his blonde type, with his fair hair and beard, and large clear blue eyes, and frank, kindly expression. But Viola would never have thought of him twice if he had fallen at her feet like the rest.