He was a proud, reserved man, and it was hard to confess himself in the wrong, and ask forgiveness of the daughter, who such a little while ago was a pretty, willful child whom he had scolded for her heartlessness. But Viola was a woman now, hurried out of girlishness by a great trouble. She had gained a wonderful dignity that almost awed him, while her keen reproaches cut him to the heart. In his anxiety to make her think as well as she could of him under the cruel circumstances, he put aside pride and reserve, and answered, humbly: “Dear child, I was in the wrong, but I did it for your sake. I believed you had married Maxwell out of pique, while still loving Philip Desha, and when you fainted dead away on receiving his letter of repentance, my suspicions were confirmed. When I invented the stories that sent Rolfe Maxwell away, I did it for your sake, believing you would be glad to be free again to renew your vows with Desha. If I made a grave mistake, as your words imply, I can only crave your pardon in all humility. My judgment was at fault, but my heart was true, and my remorse since poor Maxwell’s death has been keen and bitter, though so silent.” She saw the signs of suffering on his pale grave face, and read them in his tremulous voice, and her heart was softened. She cried in anguish: “Oh, papa, I would give the world to undo the wrong done my dead husband! to have him back again, and tell him I love him for his bravery and for all he has suffered for my sake! But that is forever impossible, and I can only love him dead, and hope to meet him in another world, and so for the sake of that dear hope, that I may be good enough to attain future happiness, I must forgive you all you did in your mistaken zeal for me.” She gave him her cold little hand, and let him kiss her tear-wet face, then hurried to her own room, to kneel down and weep the passionate tears of a vain despair. “Let me kneel beside the bed, Let my tears fall down like rain, While I pray with drooping head: ‘God have pity on my pain!’ When love smiles, how sweet the world! When love changes, life grows dark; All its hopes in ruin hurled, Quenched in gloom, hope’s glimm’ring spark!” The next day Judge Van Lew called his daughter into the library, and said, tenderly: “My dear, I have a little plan to make atonement as far as possible for the wrong I did you.” Viola gazed at him wonderingly; and he added: “You remember, I refused in the heat of anger to permit you to have the fortune your mother willed you on your marriage, because you had not complied with the conditions set; but I am now convinced that I did wrong. Maxwell was a noble young man, after all, and if he were alive now I would welcome him as a son-in-law.” “Thank you, papa!” she exclaimed, with a gratified smile; and he added: