He paused, breathless, his splendid eyes shining down upon her with mingled hope and fear, lest she should upbraid him for his boldness. But still Viola paced slowly by his side along the gloomy street, past the long rows of frowning red-brick houses without a word, and he took heart of grace to continue gravely: “Do not answer until you look clearly into the future. If you go home now and reconcile yourself to your trouble, it will soon blow over, and you may perhaps soon become reconciled to your lover and be happy. On the other hand, if you marry me, your father will perhaps be offended beyond forgiveness; he will disinherit you, and you will suffer the hardships of a poor man’s wife, without the sweet, wifely tenderness that would make your lot bearable, unless in time you could learn to love me.” He heard a long, quivering sigh, but no word, and he went on gently: “I would be very patient, and not try to force your love, dear. I have an offer to go to Cuba to the seat of war as reporter for a leading newspaper here, and I would accept it and go away at once, leaving you here in my humble home with my dear, kind mother and my sweet cousin Mae, an orphan girl who lives with us. I know they would love you for my sake, and while I was away, your heart might grow toward me by the magnetic force of my own passion, till at last we were drawn together by mutual love.” The eloquent voice paused, and Viola said, low and very faintly: “How good you are to me.” He had hardly dared hope that she would accept him, perhaps he knew it was best she should not, yet her words chilled his heart. “But you refuse me?” he asked, in a broken voice. To his joy and surprise her small hand eagerly pressed his arm, and she answered very low: “No, I will marry you, and I thank you for your offer, for it is the best way out of my trouble, and will help me to revenge myself on Philip and Florian.” It was not a very flattering acceptance, he felt--not a word for himself, but only a note of rejoicing for her triumph that was to be gained by making a bridge of another man’s heart to reach her longed-for revenge. She added in a moment, bitterly: “I do not believe that either one of them has ceased to love me, and when they come to their senses and find out I am married to another, they will suffer all the pangs they caused my heart.” And she laughed hollowly at her prospective revenge. “May Heaven help me to win your heart, Viola, and show you the difference between true love and false! And now, as it is getting late, perhaps we had better seek a minister to marry us.” She started, laughed hysterically, but answered, eagerly: “Yes.” “Is there any minister you prefer?” “No,” carelessly.