Sweet Violet

Fate itself seemed to play into Amber’s hands.

Judge Camden had been away two months, leaving his granddaughters in charge of their chaperon, a distant widowed relative, and he was expected home that evening. Indeed, when Amber came down stairs presently, she found that he had already arrived.

She met him fondly, not through excess of love, for the judge was a stern old man, but because she hoped he had brought her a gift from the great city.

“Oh, grandpapa, welcome home! I have missed you so much!” she cooed, sweetly.

“Umph!” he grunted, ungraciously. “But where is Violet, eh?”

A sullen light gloomed in Amber’s eyes as she answered, quickly:

“She is down at the river with a young man, sir!”

“A young man! Why, what the duse——Mrs. Shirley, madame!” thumping his cane loudly on the floor to frighten the meek little widow. “Now what do you mean by letting that child Violet go gallivanting around with a young man?” he cried, violently.

Mrs. Shirley cowered before his black looks and murmured, deprecatingly:

“Dear me, Judge Camden, Violet is quite seventeen years old, and old enough to walk out with a young man, I suppose, considering that her mother was married at sixteen.”

“Don’t throw her mother up to me, you spiteful creature! Wasn’t it a runaway match, I want to know? And didn’t that wretch, Lieutenant Mead, break my poor girl’s heart in two years with his dissipations? A disgrace to the navy he was, and a good riddance when he died, I say! And what must have become of that poor baby Violet if I hadn’t brought her here and raised her—eh? And now, while I’m away, you let her begin to follow in her mother’s footsteps, you careless woman! But I’ll settle Violet’s future. She shall not elope like poor Marie! I’ve picked out a nice husband for her myself, and she is to be married in a month!”

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” whimpered the simple little widow, dismayed at this bold declaration, while Amber exclaimed, maliciously, scenting a chance for mischief:

“But, grandpapa, Violet’s engaged already to Cecil Grant!”

Judge Camden sprang from his chair, his handsome old hazel eyes glaring under the beetling white brows. He thundered, furiously:

“No, she isn’t, by Jupiter! She shall marry the man I’ve chosen for her! Cecil Grant, indeed, the young jackanapes! Poor as a church mouse, with nothing but a handsome face and a long pedigree! He’ll never get my Violet, the fortune-hunting young scamp! Go, Amber, and tell her to come here to me instantly!”

Amber obeyed his mandate quickly, only too glad of the chance to separate the lovers.

When she reached the river, she found them saying good-by beneath the willows with lingering glances and shy caresses. Violet was saying:

“You must go away now, dear Cecil, for Amber will be so angry all this evening; and, besides, we are expecting grandpapa home from the World’s Fair at any moment.”

“Then I shall call in the morning to ask him for my darling.”

“Oh, Cecil!” blushingly; but just then Amber appeared, exclaiming:

“Grandpapa has come already, Violet, and has sent me to call you in. He is very impatient to see you.”

Violet flew blithely across the daisied lawn, but Amber lingered on, eager to make up her quarrel with Cecil.

She stood in his path, so that he could not turn away from her, while she murmured, with a gentleness that was new and strange in haughty Amber:

“I spoke hastily just now, Cecil, and did not mean what I said. I forgive you for your cruelty to me, and I want to be your friend, since I cannot be your love, like Violet.”

He thought that he had never seen proud Amber so charming as now, with those downcast eyes and that sad, resigned air, so sweet and gentle. The humble, entreating voice melted his heart.

Besides, he did not feel himself entirely blameless.

A handsome young man has no business paying pointed attentions to a lovely girl, unless he means to propose marriage, and Cecil knew that he had given Madame Grundy some room for gossip.

So it pleased him to find the injured one so willing to condone his fault and claim friendship in lieu of love.

He admired Amber very much, and carried away by her generosity, he warmly pressed her extended hand.

“You are ill, Amber—your hand is hot and burning!” he cried, in dismay.

“No, no! I am excited, that is all! Now, Cecil, we are friends again, are we not? And I will not try to envy Violet’s good fortune if you will give me the second place in your heart.”

She waited for him to answer, and the murmuring river filled up the pause. If he had understood its subtle language, it would have sounded like a note of warning: “Beware!”

But Cecil saw no treachery in the hazel eyes that looked up to him with such mute imploring. Touched by her generosity, he murmured:

“I pledge you my friendship, Amber, next to my love for sweet Violet; and if you ever need a favor, claim it from me as a brother.”

“Thank you, dear, dear Cecil,” she murmured, gratefully, plaintively, and passed out of his sight.