“Then why will you be so silly? Do you not know that I have never loved any one but you, Florian, and never shall?” cried Viola, rashly, melted to tenderness by his grief and really feeling very sad indeed over his going, so that she took a very lukewarm emotion for eternal love. Florian was transported with joy over her fond declaration, and again renewed his entreaties for an immediate marriage, but was soon warned off by her rising vexation. “I must go and make my preparations for leaving at once,” he said, sadly, rising. “Oh, Viola, it breaks my heart to leave you, my precious one! Will you promise to write to me often if I am detained long?” pleadingly. “I am not fond of writing letters, dear, but I will try not to neglect you while you are gone. If they are very short, you must not mind, because I am so busy.” “_Busy!_” he echoed, with slight sarcasm, and she flushed slightly, exclaiming: “Why will you take one up so? You know the demands of a social life are very pressing. But I dare say I shall not enjoy myself at all now, I shall be missing you so much,” her voice breaking and tears actually brimming over in her eyes. Florian caught her in his fond arms and kissed them away. Then they had such a sad leave-taking that the emotional girl allowed her betrothed to persuade her to name the wedding-day as soon as he should return from abroad. CHAPTER III. THE MOTH AND THE STAR. Florian, hurrying away with sad heart and dejected mien from the parting with Viola, stopped short at meeting Professor Desha strolling leisurely toward him. He stared at him in surprise, exclaiming: “Well met, my friend, for I was going home to send you a message.” “A message?” “Yes--that I can not go on with the portrait just now. I am called most unexpectedly abroad.” “Something is wrong?” cried the congressman, who had not failed to observe the pallor of his friend’s face. “Yes; my father is paralyzed at Carlsbad, and mother has cabled me to start to her at once. I shall go on tonight to New York, and sail on the first steamer.” After a moment’s embarrassing pause, he added: “I have been calling on Miss Van Lew--to tell her we must leave off the sittings until my return, and to--bid her farewell.” His voice was so wrung with emotion that it sounded strange in his own ears, for an almost unconquerable impulse had come over him to confide to this loyal friend the story of his betrothal to Viola and his distress at the separation. Had he yielded to the temptation how much of the pain and tragedy of the future might have been spared both their hearts! But he was a man of honor, and he remembered just in time his promise to Viola to keep secret their engagement. He crushed back the words struggling for utterance on his lips, and said instead: