Bernard sought his landlady, who was present as a guest, and through her secured an introduction to Miss Viola Martin.  He found her even more beautiful, if possible, in mind than in form and he sat conversing with her all the evening as if enchanted.

The people present were not at all surprised; for as soon as Bernard’s brilliancy and worth were known in the town and people began to love him, it was generally hoped and believed that Miss Martin would take him captive at first sight.

Miss Viola Martin was a universal favorite.  She was highly educated and an elocutionist of no mean ability.  She sang sweetly and was the most accomplished pianist in town.  She was bubbling over with good humor and her wit and funny stories were the very life of any circle where she happened to be.  She was most remarkably well-informed on all leading questions of the day, and men of brain always enjoyed a chat with her.  And the children and older people fairly worshipped her; for she paid especial attention to these.  In all religious movements among the women she was the leading spirit.

With all these points in her favor she was unassuming and bowed her head so low that the darts of jealousy, so universally hurled at the brilliant and popular, never came her way.  No one in Norfolk was considered worthy of her heart and hand and the community was tenderly solicitous as to who should wed her.

Bernard had made such rapid strides in their affections and esteem that they had already assigned him to their pet, Viola, or Vie as she was popularly called.

When the time for the departure of the guests arrived, Bernard with great regret bade Miss Martin adieu.

She ran upstairs to get her cloak, and a half dozen girls went tripping up stairs behind her; when once in the room set apart for the ladies’ cloaks they began to gleefully pound Viola with pillows and smother her with kisses.

“You have made a catch, Vie.  Hold him,” said one.

“He’ll hold himself,” said another.  To all of which Viola answered with a sigh.

A mulatto girl stepped up to Viola and with a merry twinkle in her eye said:  “Theory is theory and practice is practice, eh, Vie?  Well, we would hardly blame you in this case.”

Viola earnestly replied:  “I shall ask for no mercy.  Theory and practice are one with me in this case.”

“Bah, bah, girl, two weeks will change that tune.  And I, for one, won’t blame you,” replied the mulatto still in a whisper.

The girls seeing that Viola did not care to be teased about Bernard soon ceased, and she came down stairs to be escorted home by the young man who had accompanied her there.

This young man was, thus early, jealous of Bernard and angry at Viola for receiving his attentions, and as a consequence he was silent all the way home.

This gave Viola time to think of that handsome, talented lawyer whom she had just met.  She had to confess to herself that he had aroused considerable interest in her bosom and she looked forward to a promised visit with pleasure.  But every now and then a sigh would escape her, such as she made when the girls were teasing her.