“Oh, not yet, please! I am afraid--afraid!” she wailed, dreading her father’s wrath. “Oh, let us walk along the streets awhile, please.” She thought she could persuade him to keep her secret, but he was resolute in taking her home and telling her father. “I dare not trust you unless you promise not to make such another attempt,” he said, so firmly that she cried, petulantly: “Who are you that dares assume authority over me?” “I am your true friend, I hope, Miss Van Lew, and I would not willingly see your fair young life thrown away.” She startled him by murmuring: “My friend! Come, I like that word! All other men have been my lovers!” She did not guess how his heart beat as he answered: “I could be your lover, too, Miss Van Lew, but fate is against me. You seem to need a friend. Let me hold that precious place.” They walked slowly along the street, her trembling hand drawn through his arm. In spite of all her trouble Viola could not help seeing how tall and handsome he was, with glorious dark eyes that had given her a strange, delicious thrill every time she met their earnest glance. She had a subtle feeling that here was a true heart--one to rest on and confide in, sure of pity and sympathy. She faltered, weakly: “You--you would not wish to be my friend if you knew me well. There are--are”--gaspingly--“men who hate me because I--I used to flirt when I did not know it was very cruel.” CHAPTER XIX. A COUP D’ÉTAT. “Poor little girl!” murmured Rolfe Maxwell, very softly; and he could not help pressing the little hand that lay upon his arm. The tenderness sank into Viola’s heart, so hungry for pity and sympathy. She sighed heavily, and walked along by his side in silence a few minutes, without thinking how strange her position was--walking at this time of night with Rolfe Maxwell, her father’s employe, and almost a stranger to herself. In the distraught state of her mind nothing seemed strange or out of the way now. The man’s gentleness and sympathy stole like balm into her aching heart and melted it, where coldness and blame would have steeled it into pride and anger. “Do you really mean,” she murmured in a wistful voice such as no one had ever heard from her before, “that you really want to be my friend, that you would help me out of my trouble--for indeed I have a great trouble--if you could?” “Yes, I mean it; for I am very sorry for you, Miss Van Lew. I will do anything in the world to help you, if you will only tell me how,” he returned, gently and encouragingly, with an earnestness that wooed her confidence. Viola was so proud that she wanted to keep her humiliating secret from the whole world, and would not confide it even to her aunt and father; but, obeying the magnetic influence of the moment, she opened her whole passionate heart to this stranger.