“LOVE’S SEAL IS SET UPON ME.”
Although Judge Camden was very proud of the offer he had received
for Violet’s hand, he might not have insisted upon its acceptance so
strongly had he not been determined to thwart her marriage to Cecil
Grant.
The judge had a secret spite against Cecil’s mother that influenced him
in rejecting the young man’s suit for Violet.
Mrs. Grant was a handsome widow, the descendant of a very aristocratic
race, but impoverished by the war between the States, and struggling
under a load of debt and worry. The ancestral estates were almost
hopelessly mortgaged, and her only son, Cecil, a newly fledged lawyer,
was barely able to keep up the interest and maintain his mother in
simple style from his earnings and the small revenue from the stock and
lands.
Judge Camden was a self-made man, very rich, and with the arrogant
pride peculiar to that class of people. He fell in love with his
neighbor, the poor, proud, but charming widow, and offered her his hand.
His proposal was politely, gently, but firmly rejected, and the old
judge never forgave her for the slight.
He continued to cherish a secret anger against the lady, and his
resentment included her son, then a young collegian.
When Cecil came home and opened his modest law-office in the village,
he secretly did everything he could against the progress of the
struggling young attorney, and delighted in all his misfortunes.
Now that Cecil had become a suitor for Violet’s hand, the old judge saw
in it an opportunity to wreak vengeance on the son’s heart for all the
pangs his mother had inflicted on his, and he was not slow to avail
himself of the occasion.
No pity for the young hearts thus cruelly severed moved him from his
stern resolve to force Violet, by fair or foul means, into a speedy
marriage with Harold Castello.
When Mrs. Grant learned of the old judge’s refusal to sanction Cecil’s
engagement to Violet, she was very indignant, and desired her son to
break off the affair at once.
“I cannot bear to have my son called a fortune-hunter,” she cried,
proudly, for some gossip had made her acquainted with the old judge’s
insinuations.
Cecil flushed deeply as he answered:
“No one can call me so, mother, for Violet Mead is as poor as I am.”
“Yes, but it is expected that she and her cousin Amber will divide
their grandfather’s fortune between them at his death.”
“That is, if they marry to please him, of course; otherwise he will
disinherit them. So sweet Violet’s fate is already sealed, for she has
promised to be my bride as soon as I am a little better off.”
“Oh, my son, how can you dream of taking bonny Violet away from her
luxurious home at Golden Willows to live in such an old rack-rent
castle as this?” demanded Mrs. Grant, in sorrowful dismay.
“We love each other, mother dear, and Violet vows that she will not
mind my poverty,” he replied, gently.
“She is a child, and does not know anything about the stern realities
of poverty and want. You had much better break off the engagement and
leave Violet free for her rich suitor, or you might both repent your
marriage when too late. And, to be frank, Cecil--I am not mercenary,
but I have always hoped you would marry money, so as to pay off the
mortgage and save your ancestral estates.”
“You should have thought of that yourself, mother, when you refused
Judge Camden’s hand,” her son replied, demurely.
She flushed with surprise and exclaimed:
“You are guessing wildly, my dear Cecil.”
“No, mother, I am not. Do you think I do not understand that old man’s
persecution of me? It is only an ignoble spite against the woman who
would not marry him.”
“I believe you are right, dear,” she acknowledged, sadly; “I know that
a marriage with him would have given us both many advantages we do not
now possess. Are you angry because I rejected him?”
“No, mother, no! How could that hard, pompous old man have taken my
noble father’s place in your heart? Not for the world would I have
had you sacrifice yourself thus. But do not let your dislike of him
prejudice you against my gentle Violet.”
Mrs. Grant gave him a fond, motherly smile, as she answered, kindly:
“Violet is a charming girl. I have loved her from childhood, but I
cannot encourage your desire to marry her against her grandfather’s
consent. He is so vindictive that nothing but trouble and sorrow could
come of defiance to his will.”
She believed what she said, and had her son’s best interest at heart in
thus advising him, but he turned away sighing, because he had received
no encouragement.
All the opposing fates seemed to be leagued against him and Violet.
It was cruel, for they loved so truly that Heaven must have made them
for each other--he so dark, and strong, and handsome, Violet so fair,
and slight, and lovely.
It was very foolish that an old man’s malice over his thwarted love
affair should have come between such fond and loving hearts.
Cecil wandered wretchedly along the river-bank, thinking of his
darling, and planning all sorts of things for overthrowing the barriers
that held them apart. He would have proposed an elopement, but he
hesitated on account of his poverty. He would rather have waited until
his prospects brightened so that he could give his fair bride something
of the luxury to which she was accustomed at Golden Willows.
Here at Bonnycastle, his own home, the stately rooms were all out of
repair, the fine oaken furniture was old and gloomy; the carpets worn
and dingy; while outside the stone towers, in which his old English
ancestor had gloried, were overgrown with ivy, in which owls screeched
dismally by night and nestling birds sang by day.
It was little better than a picturesque ruin, although people said that
it had been the finest place in the county, and would be again, if the
owner could only afford to repair it and restore the ruined lawns and
gardens with their rank growths to order and beauty again.
That was a dream that poor Cecil had dreamed from boyhood, but it
seemed farther away from realization than ever now, as he thought of
Violet and the fate her grandfather menaced her with--the marriage to
an unknown wealthy suitor.
Everything looked very dark and hopeless, but he could not entertain,
for one moment, his mother’s advice to give up Violet.
“She cannot dream how truly I love my darling, or she would know that
the loss of her would wreck my life,” he thought. “Since I first met
Violet the whole world has grown brighter and more joyful. I have
seemed to live more fully, to rest more sweetly. I can never put her
out of my heart, nor relinquish the hope of one day calling her mine,”
and he recalled some sweet, tender lines, somewhere read, that seemed
to image his own feelings:
“Forget thee, dear?
God knows how in the silence of the night,
Forgetful how tired I am,
I think of thee till, like a soothing balm,
Sleep, drooping on my lids, puts thought to flight.
“Forget thee, dear?
God knows I have no longer any choice!
Love’s seal is set upon me, nor can I,
With placid beating heart, again deny
The mastery and magic of thy voice.
“Forget thee, dear?
God knows I would not if I could;
For sweeter far has been to me the pain
Of love unsatisfied than all the vain
And ill-spent years I lived before we met.
“Forget thee, dear?
God knows if I were lying dead to-day,
To ashes turned in a forgotten grave,
And to my dust he mercifully gave
The power to speak one word, thy name I’d say.”
The sound of light wheels startled him from his sorrowful reverie,
and, looking quickly up, he saw that he had wandered from the
river-path to the open road, and, in a natty little phaeton rolling
along the smooth gravel sat Amber Laurens, superbly attired, and
handling the ribbons with consummate skill.
Cecil tried to retreat to the shade of some trees by the road, but he
was too late. The beauty had seen him, and she chirped to her little
gray pony to stop.
Then she called, airily:
“If you hide from me, Mr. Grant, you will miss the message I have for
you from Violet.”
These words brought him quickly to the side of the phaeton, where
he bowed to her, stiffly, for it was their first meeting since the
night he had saved Violet from the river, and his heart was hot with
resentment over her treachery.
“You have a message for me from Violet?” he cried, eagerly. “Please
tell it to me quickly, for my heart is almost broken with suspense over
my poor, ill-treated, suffering girl.”