Sweet Violet

At Golden Willows Judge Camden and Amber were quietly triumphant, and Mrs. Shirley weakly dazed at the news of Violet’s elopement with Harold Castello.

“I never could have believed that Violet would jilt Cecil Grant!” cried the little widow, in surprise.

“And why not?” cried Amber, tartly. “Mr. Castello was as handsome as Cecil, and much richer; so I suppose that when Violet saw him, his wealth turned the scale in his favor.”

“Perhaps so,” was the meek response of the downtrodden little widow, who would not presume to argue with any one in that house.

But in her secret heart she was surprised at Violet, who had always been her favorite cousin, and she was very sorry for Cecil Grant. Her sympathies went out to him because he was poor and unfortunate like herself, and she could not help suspecting that there had been foul play somewhere.

“For why need Violet elope with Mr. Castello when her grandfather was willing and anxious for her to marry him at home?” she asked herself; but she did not dare to breathe the thought aloud, although she observed with suspicious eyes the great friendship that had grown up between the judge and Amber.

“How did she manage to get on the good side of the old sinner? I am sure he used to regard Violet as his favorite,” she thought, in wonder.

But Amber cared nothing for Mrs. Shirley’s suspicions. She was jubilant over the success of her plans for getting rid of her rival.

Judge Camden had given her the promised check for twenty-five thousand dollars, and she was now ready to carry out the second part of her scheme, to lend the money to Cecil Grant, and so place him under a heavy obligation that he could only requite by the offer of his hand.

Even her grandfather had been surprised at the fertility of her brain in conceiving wickedness, and had almost shrunk at first from her advice to buy the mortgage upon Bonnycastle and turn the Grants out.

“The whole county would be down on me, Amber, for the Grants are highly esteemed by everybody,” he objected.

“No one would dare to blame you to your face, grandpapa, and what would you care for their inward thoughts? You are the richest man in the county, and it would be a triumph to let that proud Mrs. Grant feel the weight of your power,” cried the wily Amber.

“That’s so! I’ll do it!” cried the old man, still smarting under the sting of his rejection by the mistress of Bonnycastle, and thus Amber gained her wish.

She waited eagerly all the morning after the elopement for a note from Cecil to tell her he would accept the loan of her money, but none came, and she began to grow alarmed for the success of her scheme.

“He shall take it! I will go to his mother and tempt her so that she cannot refuse,” she decided, and set out that afternoon for a stolen visit to Bonnycastle, not daring to let her grandfather suspect her design.

It was a chilly afternoon in October, and Amber made herself as charming as possible, putting on her handsomest carriage gown and a stylish new hat just received from New York, hoping to impress Mrs. Grant with her beauty and grandeur.

She left the carriage at the gate and walked through the grounds, now glowing in autumnal splendor, up to the splendid old ruin with the ivy draping its battlemented towers, hoping she might perchance meet Cecil loitering about.

But Cecil was nowhere to be seen, and when she lifted the rusty knocker at the hall-door, the old black servant who took her card looked at her as angrily as if she had been the old judge himself.

“I donno as missis is to home or not—leastwise she’s berry po’ly,” she said, drawing herself up in grim majesty, for Judge Camden’s evil deed was known in the kitchen as well as in the parlor, and deeply resented.

“Wha’ fer she come pokin’ aroun’ here arter her old grandad done act so shameful? S’pose he done sent her to see how po’ ole miss takes it to be turn outer house an’ home like dis?” thought Aunt Dinah, angrily, and Amber read her thought.

“Oh, Aunt Dinah, please don’t be angry with me for my grandfather’s doings! I am so sorry he has foreclosed the mortgage, and I came to tell dear Mrs. Grant that I am ashamed of it all,” cried the beauty, so sweetly that the old woman’s anger was at once disarmed, and with returning smiles, she ushered the visitor into the large, shabby parlor, with its faded carpet and curtains, and took the card to her mistress.

Mrs. Grant was in her own cozy little sitting-room, lying dejectedly upon a sofa drawn near the glowing wood-fire in the grate, and she looked with a weary frown at the bit of pasteboard, exclaiming:

“Amber Laurens! Why, what does the girl want with me? I should think she would have better taste than to come to Bonnycastle now.”

“Oh, missis, she tole me dat she am real sorry her grandad act so ugly by you, and she come to tell you so. An’, missis, she am got on de beautifulest gown I ebber seen, all black and yaller silk, and de fines’ hat, black velvit wid yaller canary birds onto it, as nateral as life! I sholy did like dem fine clothes!” admitted Aunt Dinah.

“But, Dinah, I do not feel well enough to see callers to-day. You must tell Miss Laurens to excuse me,” murmured the lady, shrinking from a meeting with any of the household from Golden Willows.

“Oh, sho, now, missis, you can see her jes’ as well’s not, for you needn’t go down to de parlor room at all. She can come to de settin’-room, and talk ter yer, layin’ dere so comf’able, dere now,” urged Aunt Dinah, thinking that the call might divert the lady’s melancholy thoughts.

“Oh, very well, Dinah; bring her in here, then. You will always have your way,” sighed Mrs. Grant, and the old woman retreated, chuckling, and soon ushered the beautiful young visitor into the presence of her mistress.

“Dear Mrs. Grant, will you pardon me for coming at this time? Oh, I could not help it! My heart ached for your trouble. I had to come and tell you how grieved and sorry I am, and how ashamed of poor grandpapa, who is getting so old that he is too much under the influence of his lawyers. They have persuaded him to do this grasping thing, I know; but although I have begged and begged him not to do it, he will not listen to me. Oh, do say you will not blame me!”

Mrs. Grant had risen in her iciest manner to receive the unwelcome guest, but Amber’s gushing outburst completely disarmed her hostility.

She took the outstretched hand and lightly kissed the inviting, upturned lips.

“You are very good, my dear girl,” she said, falteringly and made room for Amber on her sofa, though she realized in a moment how shabby her worn black cashmere looked by the side of the visitor’s rich striped silk.

Aunt Dinah withdrew, with a low chuckle of satisfaction, and Amber sat gazing with curious eyes at the mistress of Bonnycastle and thinking how much older she had grown since only yesterday, when this crushing sorrow had fallen upon her. The wavy dark hair was thickly streaked with gray, the pretty face was pale, the dark eyes dim and shadowed from constant weeping.

“Oh, Mrs. Grant, how ill you look!” pursued Amber, tenderly. “It is a burning shame that grandpapa should have distressed you so, and I will never forgive him—never! I told him so only this morning, but I could not move his hard heart. But we will outwit him, dear Mrs. Grant, for I have a plan if you will only permit me to help you.”

“You, my dear Miss Laurens!” exclaimed her hostess, doubtfully, but with a little thrill of hope.

It would break her heart, she knew, to leave the dear old home, and she caught eagerly at every little gleam of hope.

“Please call me Amber—Miss Laurens sounds so distant. And Cecil always calls me Amber. We are great friends, you know,” cried the girl, eagerly.

“Indeed?” returned the lady, with slight surprise.

She thought but did not say that it was Violet surely in whom Cecil was so much interested.

“Oh, Mrs. Grant, you have not heard the news about Violet, I suppose? She eloped last night with a gentleman who has been visiting at Golden Willows—a Mr. Castello, of Chicago. Oh, how surprised you look! You thought she was Cecil’s sweetheart, did you not? So did we all, but our Violet was always a sad flirt, and always preferred her latest lover. Mr. Castello was very rich, too, and that carried the day with Violet. So off they went to Washington last night and were married. Did not Cecil tell you?”

“No, he did not mention it. I suppose he thought it unimportant compared with our trouble!” Mrs. Grant answered, proudly, treating the whole matter lightly, though her heart ached in secret for her poor boy, thus made the victim of a heartless jilt.

Amber did not wish to wound her sensitive pride too deeply, so she made no further reference to the elopement, and began, wheedlingly:

“Dear Mrs. Grant, my heart is almost broken over this affair. I cannot bear to have you and Cecil give up your old home and go away among strangers. It would be very cruel for you both.”

“It will break my heart to go!” cried Mrs. Grant, choking back a sob that rose at Amber’s sweet sympathy.

“It must not be! You shall remain at Bonnycastle!” cried the young girl, with a resolute air.

“Ah, my dear young girl, we are compelled to go! Cecil cannot raise the money to pay off the mortgage, and Judge Camden has sworn that unless he does so, we must give up the place in a week. Do not distress yourself, my sweet young friend, over our fate, for it is fixed, and I must cultivate resignation,” sighed the unhappy lady.

“Perhaps if you would appeal in person to my grandfather——” began Amber, but Mrs. Grant shook her head decisively.

“Never!” she replied, with flashing eyes, and lips curled in disdainful pride.

“How she despises the old gentleman!” Amber thought, with secret amusement, then said, aloud, gently:

“Perhaps you are right not to humble yourself to that hard old man. And, indeed, there is no need, for you can defy his power. I can help you to do it.”

Mrs. Grant looked in unfeigned wonder at the beautiful creature whose face was so bright and spirited in the leaping flames of the firelight.

“My dear Amber, I do not understand you,” she answered, with a helpless little sigh.

“I know you do not, dear Mrs. Grant, but I will soon make it clear to you. I did not intrude on you this morning to offer useless sympathy, but to give you real help. I have a little fortune of my own, quite independent of my grandfather, and I will lend you the money to pay off the mortgage on Bonnycastle and keep your home.”

The startling words were spoken, and Mrs. Grant could not answer, from sheer surprise.

She had not known that either of the nieces of Judge Camden possessed a dollar in their own right, and she instantly decided that some of her father’s relatives had left Amber a legacy. But her kindly sympathy, her generous offer of so large a sum struck her dumb.

Amber saw the effect of her words and exulted. Without waiting for a reply, she continued, eagerly:

“Do not refuse my offer, Mrs. Grant, for it will make me very happy to enable you to pay off the mortgage and remain at Bonnycastle. And grandpapa need never know the truth. My money is under my own control, and I can convey it to you without his knowledge. Oh, how proud and glad I should be to do this small favor for you and your dear son!”

“This is very noble, very unexpected, and very—tempting—to me, dear Amber; but—but—I am sure it would not be right to accept. Cecil is very proud,” Mrs. Grant sobbed, almost breaking down in her gratitude to the fair young girl, her eagerness to accept her offer, and her consciousness that Cecil was far too proud to accept this favor from Judge Camden’s granddaughter.

Amber did not tell her that she had already spoken to Cecil on the subject. She answered, hopefully:

“I cannot believe that Cecil would be so cruel as to let you leave Bonnycastle, if by any fair means he can retain it for you. I know he loves you very dearly, and would be willing to sacrifice his pride a little for your dear sake. May I stay with you, dear friend, till he comes, and we will plead with him together?”

“Yes, stay, dear,” was the glad reply.