Sweet Violet

It almost seemed as if the news that Violet was still alive, and her return to Golden Willows, put new life into the stern old judge.

He began to rally from his extreme depression, and when Violet had staid with him a little while, he fell into a peaceful sleep, that lasted until morning.

Meanwhile, Cecil had hurried home to tell his mother of the startling events that had happened since he had left her at noon with Amber. Mrs. Shirley had sent a maid from Golden Willows to nurse Amber at the Melrose cottage, so he did not think it necessary to go back there.

But when he had told Mrs. Grant all the story of Amber’s treachery, she sighed deeply, and said:

“Poor girl! she has been very wicked, and I am glad you escaped the marriage she planned for you. But, Cecil, we must not forget her great kindness, nor the gratitude we owe her for the loan that saved Bonnycastle.”

“But, mother, it seems as if she deliberately planned the foreclosure of the mortgage, in order to work out her plan of the elopement, and to snare me in her toils,” he replied, indignantly.

“Poor Amber! was she indeed so wicked? But yet, I pity her, now that her sins have found her out, and she is so desolate and forsaken. And since Mrs. Shirley cannot go to her, Cecil, why it almost seems my duty to care for her now; so, early in the morning, you must take me to the Melrose cottage.”

He did not gainsay her wish, and took her in a carriage the next morning.

But there was no change in Amber. She lay unconscious, as on the night before; and Cecil left his mother at the cottage, and rode to Golden Willows to see Violet.

She came to meet him, so bright, so beautiful, in her soft, white cashmere morning-dress, bound at the waist with a white silken cord, and all her golden curls loose about her shoulders, like ripples of spun gold. The sweet rosebud lips were lifted frankly for his fond kiss.

“Grandpapa is so much better this morning. He has been talking to us—telling us”—she said, and paused.

“Of Harold Castello’s death?” asked Cecil.

“Yes,” she answered, “and Lena was very glad that he repented his sins before he died. He had a priest sent for, and confessed his sins and received absolution. He left a message for me, praying my pardon for his sins against me, and that I would never reveal all the evil I knew of him, since he had passed beyond earthly punishment to the bar of Heaven. Cecil,” and she lifted her wistful blue eyes to his adoring face.

“What is it, my darling?”

She answered, with a catch in her breath, like a repressed sob:

“I knew much evil of this man that I have never spoken. Is it right for me to keep silence now?”

“Yes, Violet, it is right. The dead are sacred. If we cannot speak in praise of them, and if silence can wrong no one, it is best.”

“I am glad you think so, for his terrible suffering in death has touched my heart. And Lena forgives him now, and his wrongs against her were greater than mine.”

“It is noble in you both,” he said, admiringly.

“But, Cecil, there is something else that distresses me very much, but grandpapa says I must accept it.”

“What is it, my Violet?”

“I—I—am his widow, you know. Is it not horrible to think of, dear? But it cannot be helped, you know, for the marriage was legal. But he had no relatives, and—and—he left me all his wealth—several millions, grandpapa says. I—I—wish to refuse it, but he says there is no way to do it. And the dying man begged I would accept it in atonement for all I had suffered through his sins.”

“And you wish to refuse it, my darling? But I do not blame you. There is Lena, whom he wronged so deeply. You can give it to her, Violet.”

“I have offered it to her, but she refused, for there are reasons that would make it dreadful for her to accept. And grandpapa has been saying that I am very foolish to refuse this fortune. He said I might do so much good with it—help the poor, you know—and—and”—shyly, “restore Bonnycastle when we are married. It tempted me a little, dear, for I should like to see Bonnycastle rebuilt—it will be my future home! So what shall I do, my darling?”

“You might think me mercenary if I counseled you to accept it, dear one, since you will be my wife. You must decide for yourself.”

“Then I will do as Mr. Castello wished, and as grandpapa counsels, for I shall then be very rich, and can do much good with the money.”

Cecil did not dissuade her, for he thought that she had suffered enough at Castello’s hands to merit this compensation. He did not covet the money for himself, but he knew that it would add to the happiness of his wife.

So she told Judge Camden she would accept the royal dower, and he was well pleased.

“But, Lena, it should have been yours instead,” she said, sadly; but Lena shook her head.

“You forget poor father,” she said. “No, no! I could not touch a cent of it. I care nothing now for worldly pleasures, and at the death of my poor mother, who is fast failing in health, I shall retire into a convent to end my days.”

Violet saw that there was no use urging her about the money. The wound in her heart was mortal.

She remained a few days at Golden Willows, until Judge Camden was out of danger, then returned to her home in Washington. A few weeks later her mother died, and she carried out her vow of entering a convent. The wonderful beauty that had proved her ruin was hidden beneath the black vail of the nun. When Violet donned the misty vail to become the adored bride of the man she worshiped, Lena Lavarre had already spoken the solemn vows that made her the pious bride of Heaven.

After Violet had held that conversation with Cecil, she said to him:

“I wish you to take me to see Amber. Although she has sinned against me, I forgive her, because I am so very happy; and I pity her for the jealous love that made her cruel and wicked.”

“I will take you to the cottage. My mother is already there,” replied Cecil.

Violet went to her grandfather.

“I am going to see Amber. You must send her your forgiveness,” she pleaded.

He demurred at first, but he could not refuse anything to Violet, who had forgiven so much to him; so he agreed that he would forgive Amber’s sins, and let her come home if she recovered.

But the next day Amber came home to Golden Willows in her coffin.

When Cecil and Violet reached the cottage, the beautiful sinner who had risked and lost all for the sake of a mad love, had just expired, without ever fully regaining consciousness.

Violet kissed the poor, dead face, whose beauty was all marred by that ghastly scar, and wept bitterly on Mrs. Grant’s motherly breast. She had hoped so much that Amber would get well and repent, but it was not to be. The fiery heart and burning brain were stilled forever.

So they robed her in snowy white, with flowers on her pulseless breast, and bore her back to her old home, and the secret of her sins was hidden in sacred silence in the breasts of the few that knew them. A few days later she had a stately funeral, and was laid to rest in the family grave-yard, under the whirling winter snow. The whole county mourned for beautiful Amber, who had come to so untimely an end, and the broken marble shaft that rose above her dreamless head, told no secrets of the wayward heart and mind that had driven her into sin and brought her to death.

Judge Camden was deeply moved when he heard the story of Mrs. Grant’s attendance at Amber’s death-bed. He realized that she was not the proud, heartless woman he had imagined, and thanked her, in a brief, grateful note, for her friendship for his dead granddaughter. She replied by telling how Amber had saved Bonnycastle, and then he understood everything—how terribly the girl had fought for victory in all her aims. He always tried to believe that Amber had made some terrible mistake when she placed the arsenic in his glass.

“She thought it was a sleeping potion, I am sure,” he said to gentle Mrs. Shirley, who sighed, without replying.

“But,” continued the judge, “I should have died, the doctor says, but for the timely emetic you gave me, madame.”

“I am very glad I could pay some of the debt of gratitude I owe you, by saving your life,” she answered, in her simple, gentle way, and the old man, who was getting well again, and seemed to have years of life before him, looked at her quite tenderly.

“You owe me no gratitude, for I have always been a bear to you,” he protested.

“Oh, no, judge; you have always been very kind to me!”

“Then, since you have such a good opinion of me, madame, suppose we get married, and make each other happy for the rest of our lives? When I die, I’ll give you a life interest in my property, and at your death, it will revert to our dear Violet.”

Mrs. Shirley agreed to this offer as amiably as she always accepted the judge’s propositions; and she found, on marrying him, that her lot was very much bettered. He made quite an affectionate old husband, and dropped many of his bearish ways in honor of the timid, gentle lady who bore his name.

In the golden spring-time, when the violets were blooming in the shady dells, Cecil Grant gathered to his tender heart the fair Violet of Golden Willows, to have and hold in perfect bliss forever, “until death do us part.”

(THE END.)