“It is the truth that I am telling you; and my life’s story would have ended then and there but that a passing stranger darted forward, and at the risk of his own noble life snatched me from a terrible death. It was Rolfe Maxwell, and with gentle sympathy he drew from me the story of my sorrows, and my futile plan for saving myself from the next day’s sensation by marrying Florian. Then he threw himself into the breach, offered marriage, owning that he loved me. Now I will tell you what I have never confessed to any living soul before: I accepted his offer, and at that moment my whole heart went out to him in a fullness of passion and devotion such as never had any part in the lukewarm emotion I felt once for Florian and for you afterward. I realized suddenly that I had never really loved you and did not now regret you, but that the fullness of love and happiness awaited me with the man who had so nobly saved my young life from shipwreck, earning my love and gratitude at one stroke. My great mistake was that I was ashamed to confess the truth to him then, and he made the chivalrous mistake of leaving me free till I could grow to care for him, going at once to Cuba, where he soon met his tragic death.” CHAPTER XXXVI. STARTLING NEWS. Viola paused with quivering lips, the tears hanging heavily on the curling fringe of her long black lashes. How beautiful, how unattainable, she looked to the man who had loved and lost her in so strange a fashion, who had only himself to blame for the thorn in his heart! A long, labored sigh heaved his breast, and smote reproachfully on her ears. She murmured, faintly: “Is there not some one else you can love? Florian soon found consolation.” “I am not Florian. There will never be any one else for me to love but you, Viola. I can not change,” he answered, heavily, out of the despair in his heart. “I am very, very sorry, but I can not give you any hope,” she repeated, gently; and he rose to go, so haggard and wan that it went to her heart, and she cried, remorsefully: “Oh, I have been most cruel to you! I led you on, or you never could have loved me, despising coquettes as you did with all the strength of your noble nature. But I have repented all my follies, and I am a new Viola now, hating myself for all I did, and most of all for wronging you so deeply I dare not ask you to forgive me,” generously taking all the blame to herself. “We all make mistakes in the course of our lives. I forgive you everything, poor child,” he answered, generously going up to her and taking her hands in a lingering pressure, as he added, sorrowfully: “My dream is over. God bless you, and farewell!” He turned away with an aching heart and left her weeping, with her fatally lovely face hidden in her hands--weeping for him out of the pity of her heart.