Sweet Violet

Several days passed very quietly and uneventfully at Golden Willows; for, strange to say, Harold Castello did not come there to seek for his fugitive bride.

Amber was bright and happy, and gave herself up to the entertainment of company. Whenever this source of amusement failed her, she stole away to Bonnycastle, where she was now a welcome visitor.

Judge Camden suffered from twinges of his old enemy, the rheumatism, and Mrs. Shirley moped in her most doleful fashion. Indeed, she was once or twice surprised by the old gentleman in tears.

When he caught her for the third time surreptitiously wiping her eyes, his wrath broke bounds, and he demanded, curtly:

“Now, what the duse is the matter with you, madame? Always going about red-eyed and sniveling.”

Mrs. Shirley protested meekly that nothing ailed her but a bad cold.

“Come, now, that is a fib, old lady. Tell me the truth immediately! Has anybody been treading on your feelings?” cried the old man, whimsically.

“No-o-o, sir.”

“Is anybody dead, then?”

“Oh, I hope not, sir; but——” and the meek little widow’s voice broke in a stifled sob. Judge Camden eyed her in silence a moment, then thumped his stick on the floor and made her jump, thus revealing her reddened eyes and grief-stricken countenance.

“Aha! so there is something the matter! Out with it now!” he exclaimed, in his sternest voice.

“Oh, sir—please, it is nothing—only—only—I don’t want to offend, sir—but—I’m troubled over—Violet.”

His grim countenance reddened with anger.

“Troubled over Violet, eh? And why, may I ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but I’m afraid she isn’t happy!” and the poor old woman trembled all over.

“Not happy! I don’t see why,” he muttered, grimly. “Wouldn’t you be happy, Mrs. Shirley, if you were young and beautiful and off on your bridal tour with a rich and handsome husband?”

“Not if I didn’t love him, judge,” she quavered, faintly.

“What the duse do you mean? Didn’t Violet love Mr. Castello?”

“Oh, sir, you know she didn’t. She told me every day how much she hated him, and how she adored Cecil Grant.”

Mrs. Shirley had gone too far to retreat now, although her teeth were chattering with terror of his anger. But her whole sympathies were with Violet, and she could not keep back the words.

Judge Camden’s eyes snapped viciously, and he cried:

“If she didn’t love Mr. Castello, why did she marry him, eh?”

“That’s what is troubling me,” returned Mrs. Shirley, frankly. “I know she hated him; and when Amber told me she had run off to marry him, it gave me a dreadful turn, for I thought what if he stole her off against her will?”

“Tut, tut, tut! what a silly old woman! Violet married him for spite, if you must know the truth! It was Grant she was going to elope with, but he failed to meet her at the church, and Castello followed her there and pleaded his cause so well that she forsook her laggard lover and married him instead. That is the story, as Amber told it, and I think myself that Violet did a wise thing in giving young Grant the slip; although I ought to cane him for not keeping his appointment with my granddaughter.”

Mrs. Shirley was dazed at this plausible explanation, but, true to her colors, she cried, sadly:

“Oh, I am very, very sure that something dreadful must have happened to keep Cecil away, for he is a very noble young man, and——” she was going on tremulously, but he interrupted, with a frowning brow:

“That will do, madame; no more praises of that young scamp, if you please! I knew,” sarcastically, “that the young ladies of my family were both in love with the beggar; but an old woman like you ought to be thinking of something else besides a handsome young man!”

“Judge Camden, I——”

But the tormenting old wretch added, teasingly:

“You need not encourage his attentions, madame, for I should refuse my consent, just as I did in Violet’s case.”

The insulted old lady hurried from the room, weeping indignant tears, and Judge Camden laughed maliciously at the way in which he had routed Cecil’s friend.

But it made him unreasonably angry to know how every one admired the manly young fellow, who was so noble and true, and who was struggling against such overwhelming odds in the battle of life. The judge was not really a wicked man, and he would have pitied and admired any other such hero, and have offered him a helping hand; but he hated Cecil for his mother’s sake, and was pitiless. Only that day the young man had argued and gained a case in court before him, and the judge would have admired his masterly speech had it been any one else; but for Cecil he had only anger, and perhaps a spice of envy; for the old man well knew that any girl, rich or poor, in the whole county, would have been glad to marry the handsome and noble though impoverished heir of Bonnycastle.

While he sat fuming over his unpleasant thoughts, the clang of the door-bell penetrated to the library where he sat, and presently a servant entered with a card.

“Mr. Grant begs the favor of a short interview,” he said.

The judge viewed the card with round-eyed wonder and astonishment.

“Well, well, well! What business can the young jackanapes have with me? But show him in,” he ejaculated, and the next moment Cecil Grant bowed himself over the threshold, and into the presence of his surprised and wondering enemy.

From her window above Amber had watched Cecil approach, and her heart beat tumultuously as she drew back into the shadows, picturing to herself the surprise and chagrin of the old judge at learning the object of the young man’s call.

“How he will fume and wonder!” she thought, maliciously, for Amber had triumphed again.

Mrs. Grant’s entreaties had overcome Cecil’s sturdy pride, and, to save her heart from breaking at leaving the dear old home, he had reluctantly accepted the loan of the twenty thousand dollars to pay off the debt on Bonnycastle.

“And I wish,” cried Amber, fervently, “that I had twenty thousand more to give you to restore the dear old place to its pristine splendor; for I do love Bonnycastle, with all my heart!”

Mrs. Grant beamed with pleasure and gratitude on the fair schemer, and Cecil murmured his thanks in a husky voice, and with a heavy heart, for although he said no word to his mother, he had an innate conviction of what Amber would expect in return for her generosity. He knew that the old love, so cleverly masked for a while under the guise of friendship, still lived in her heart, and how could he pay the loan he had accepted from her but by the sacrifice of his life, by offering his hand and name, without the heart that still belonged to Violet?

So it was a heavy heart that he carried with him into the old judge’s presence; and when the wicked girl saw him come forth again fifteen minutes later, his head drooped dejectedly on his breast, and there was no triumph in his walk, although he had paid off his debt to Judge Camden and saved Bonnycastle for his doting mother. He was indeed overwhelmed with shame and pain at having accepted such a favor from a woman—and especially a woman he did not love.

Amber guessed something of the humiliation that bowed that dark head toward the earth, and her lips contracted with pain.

“He is wretched because his mother forced him to accept a favor from me; but if it had been Violet instead, how differently he would have felt!” she thought, bitterly; then broke into a choking sob. “Oh, Heaven, why is it that I cannot win his love when I worship him so dearly?”

At that moment her maid appeared at the door.

“Judge Camden wishes to see you in the library.”

Assuming an indifferent look, although her heart beat wildly, she sought her grandfather’s presence.

He was pacing the library in high excitement. Turning, at her entrance, he exclaimed:

“I have startling news for you! Cecil Grant has just left here!”

“Yes, grandpapa, I saw him from my window leaving the house, and I was wild with curiosity to know what had brought him to Golden Willows.”

“You could not guess in a year,” he replied, with an air of conviction.

“I am sure I could not, dear grandpapa, for of course he did not come to accuse you of treachery in Violet’s marriage to Mr. Castello.”

“Violet’s name was not mentioned between us. He did not stay above fifteen minutes, and the interview was purely a business one.”

Amber, with knitted brows and a puzzled air, exclaimed:

“Surely he was too proud to plead with you to let him stay longer at Bonnycastle! I have heard that his mother’s heart is breaking because she has to leave it, but I did not think that Cecil would humble himself even for her dear sake.”

How superbly she acted her surprise and wonder. If the old man had had the least lurking suspicion that she had lent Cecil money, her insouciance completely deceived him, and he replied, angrily:

“No indeed; my Lord Grant of Bonnycastle, Virginia would not humble his proud crest to living man, you may be sure. It was a mission of triumph, not humiliation, that brought him this afternoon to Golden Willows. In short, the young beggar had got hold of twenty thousand dollars—the Lord only knows where!—and he paid off the debt on Bonnycastle, and took my receipt!”

“Grandpapa, you amaze me, you astonish me! Where in the world did Cecil Grant get the money?”

Amber’s surprise was grandly acted. She was a consummate actress, and met his keen gaze with innocent eyes of wonder.

“I have no idea where he got it,” the judge rejoined, testily. “But he borrowed it, I suppose. He gave me a check on a Washington bank where he said the money was on deposit.”

“I have never had such a surprise in my life!” declared Amber; but her further protestations were interrupted by a knock at the door.

A servant appeared, saying that there was a strange man at the door, who would not come in, but wished to see the judge on particular business.