AMBER’S FRIENDSHIP.
She could have slain him for the tenderness of his words and tone, but
she only smiled blandly.
“You received my note, Cecil?”
“Yes,” and he frowned impatiently, for it was a weak attempt to deny
what Violet had told him that night.
“But you never answered it,” reproachfully.
“I did not think it necessary,” he replied, coldly.
“You did not credit my denial?” sadly.
“Pray pardon me from discussing it with you,” Cecil rejoined, in icy
tones, and she flushed with wounded pride.
“Oh, how cruelly I am misunderstood!” she exclaimed. “Listen, Cecil.
Only this morning Violet admitted to me that what she told you that
night was only a vision of her delirious brain, and begged my pardon
for the wrong I did her. She is deeply grieved over it, and said that
as soon as she saw you she would vindicate my truthfulness to you.”
Cecil turned a keen glance on the dark, sparkling face, and it looked
so frank and earnest and truthful, that he did not know how to doubt
her statement.
“Oh, please believe me,” cried Amber, with sweet solicitude. “Indeed I
am your true friend, Cecil, and Violet’s, too--alas, the only friend
you have, for every one at Golden Willows is against you, and if you do
not trust me with your letters to her, I do not know how you are ever
to communicate with her at all.”
“Will you drive with me a little way, as my pony is restless and will
not stop longer,” she added, sweetly.
He assented, and they drove slowly along the road in the sweet
September afternoon.
“Will not Violet come out to drive soon? Surely it would do her good,”
he exclaimed.
“Yes, but grandpapa will not permit it. He is afraid she will elope
with you, Cecil, and he will not allow her to leave the house until
she goes as the bride of the man he has chosen for her to marry in a
week, Harold Castello, a rich young man of Chicago, who has seen Violet
somewhere and become enamored of her beauty. Grandpapa met him in
Chicago, and he proposed for her hand.”
“But good heavens, Amber, this old man cannot force Violet to marry
against her will!”
“He is trying to do so and using every means in his power to bend her
to his will. Oh, I am so sorry for you and Violet!” cried Amber, with
a sympathetic glance that touched his heart and made him repent his
harshness of a while ago.
“Thank you,” he said, heartily. “Forgive me, Amber, if I have wronged
you. I cannot afford to lose a single friend now. And will you indeed
be so good as to carry letters for us, since it is impossible for me to
meet my darling yet?”
“I will carry letters for you every day, and bring Violet’s replies to
you,” declared Amber, with every appearance of sincerity.
“A thousand thanks,” he cried, gratefully.
“I am glad to serve you,” she answered, gently; then, with a low,
tremulous sigh, “are we friends again, Cecil?”
“The best of friends,” he replied, cordially, and pressed the hand she
extended with a gentle warmth, without noticing how the rich color flew
to her olive cheek and the light to her large hazel eyes. In fact he
had almost forgotten, in his trouble over Violet, that Amber had once
loved him, and been angry because his choice had fallen on her fair
cousin. He accepted frankly her profession of friendship.
“Now I must beg you to set me down at my office door, and I will at
once write Violet a letter, so that I can have it ready when you go
back from your drive, if you will be so kind,” he said, and Amber
assented very readily to his wish.
Accordingly, within the hour, the light phaeton stopped at the corner,
and Cecil brought out a letter for Violet.
“I will bring you an answer to-morrow morning, and perhaps we can yet
outwit grandpapa and Harold Castello,” declared Amber, archly, and
drove away, after giving him an entrancing smile, and a glance that was
almost too fond for friendship.