“Oh, Aunt Margaret, is it really true? Has Rolfe married that proud girl who looked like a queen?” “It is true, dear, and I am very sorry; but we must make the best of it; only I wish he had not taken us by surprise!” sighed Mrs. Maxwell. “I hate her! I wish I could part them, even now!” declared Mae, her sweet young face flushing with baleful anger. “Dear Mae, you must not feel like that. Rolfe loves his beautiful young bride, and it is our duty to love her too,” the lady said, gently. Mae sat up in bed, her azure eyes flashing with an anger her aunt had never suspected in her before. She sobbed, bitterly: “I will not love her, the proud, beautiful creature who has stolen Rolfe’s heart from me so cruelly, and broken mine!” “Dear Mae, we were mistaken in our hopes of Rolfe. He only loved you as a little sister, while we dreamed of something nearer and dearer. I am to blame for fostering such hopes in you. Will you forgive me, dear, and try to be happy without Rolfe?” pleaded Rolfe’s mother. “I can not be happy without him. I have loved him more than a year, and all my hopes centered on him. That proud beauty can never love him as dearly as I love him!” sobbed Mae, casting pride to the winds in the shock of her grief, and refusing all pacification as she cast herself, weeping, back among her pillows, so that the perturbed aunt had perforce to excuse herself presently and go away to look after the comfort of her unwelcome guest. CHAPTER XXIII. PLAYING HER PART. “Alas! if love do not reveal His warmth to stamp the marriage seal, Then grief and bitter woe betide The wedded lord and hapless bride!” Mrs. Maxwell and Rolfe soon had the tiny spare room bright and cozy for Viola, and while the young girl still slept on wearily in the parlor, he made a bungling explanation of his marriage. “I did not mean to shock you, mother, but this was a rather sudden move on my part. The truth is, that I carried Viola off from another man that she expected to wed tomorrow, and her father will be very angry, of course; but the sensation will soon blow over. Very unfortunately, I am obliged to go to New York on business tonight, and must leave my bride in your care.” She thought it would look very strange leaving his young bride on his wedding-night, and she said so frankly. The hot color surged up to the roots of the clustering black curls on his brow, then receded, leaving him deathly pale again, as he answered, quickly: “Viola will understand the necessity. Besides, I will leave a little note that will explain. I will soon be back--probably tomorrow evening.” He took her hand, and said, earnestly: “Dear mother, you have always been good to your boy, but I see that I have strained your love tonight. Will you try to forgive me for disappointing your wishes about Mae, and be kind to my precious Viola?” “Of course I will, Rolfe,” she answered. But he persevered: