“I WAS MAD WITH SHAME AND DESPAIR.”
“Thank Heaven, we made the jump safely,” cried Lena. She caught
Violet’s hand and drew her forward, saying, breathlessly: “There is an
old deserted cabin in the woods about two miles from here where we can
stay in hiding to-night. Harold Castello will not dream of searching
for us there. Indeed, he will be sure to think we have gone straight
to Mr. Cecil Grant, while in fact we shall be in quite an opposite
direction.”
Hand in hand they hurried toward the woods, their hearts beating wildly
with the joy of escape. Poor Violet! she was dreaming of her love
again, her dark-eyed Cecil, the idol of her dreams.
“I shall seek my own relatives, the Meads, as soon as I can, and they
will call in the law to free me from these hateful fetters. Then I
can marry my own love, my Cecil,” she thought, fondly, as she hurried
pantingly on by the side of her friend, poor, wronged Lena Lavarre.
When they reached the safe, quiet shelter of the lonely woods, they
slackened their pace and talked softly together.
“Oh, if I were only free of this hated marriage!” cried Violet; and
added: “Miss Lavarre, you told me Harold Castello deceived you by a
mock marriage. Are you sure it was not legal?”
“Call me Lena, dear lady; it sounds more friendly; and I am but a
little older than yourself, not yet nineteen,” answered the girl.
“Very well, Lena; and you shall call me Violet.”
“But I should not so presume--I on whom the shadow of such deep
disgrace is resting,” half sobbed the poor girl in her wretchedness.
“It is not a real disgrace, for you were pure and innocent at heart,
dreaming not of sin, when that villain deceived you; therefore you are
not really to blame, and I can take your hand and call you friend, and
love you,” answered Violet from the depths of her grateful heart, and
she slipped her arm around Lena’s waist and nestled closer to her side.
Her tenderness went straight to Lena’s heart and soothed some of its
sore and aching chords. Stifling back a sob, she exclaimed:
“You are like an angel to me, Violet, and I will always love you. But
now let us go back to your question, dear.”
“I asked if you were sure that your marriage was illegal?” reminded
Violet.
“It seemed very solemn to me, Violet, and the man looked just like a
preacher; but Harold Castello swore to me two weeks afterward that it
was his valet in disguise, and that he had performed the same ceremony
for him several times before with silly, trusting girls like myself.
Oh, Violet dear, I was mad with shame and despair, for I had worshiped
my handsome husband, and he seemed to adore me. And, indeed, I was
called a beautiful girl, with my dark-brown eyes, rosy cheeks, and
golden hair. But he must have wearied of my devotion, for he soon threw
me over.”
“Oh, Lena, I wish we could prove your marriage legal. Then I should be
free from my bonds and could testify against your father’s murderer,”
cried Violet, thoughtfully.
“Alas, it is vain to hope it; not that I could wish him for my husband
now, only to lift the burden of shame and grief that is killing me, for
I no longer love him. My heart turned against him when he cast me off
so heartlessly. But here we are at our refuge, dear,” said Lena, as
they came upon an old, dilapidated cabin in the very heart of the thick
woods.
She pushed open the door, and they entered the dreary place--an empty
room with a broken window, through which the moonlight poured in
ghastly gleams upon the floor.
“I have been here before,” said Lena. “There is a loft with some broken
chairs in it, and we can stay up there to-night and talk over our plans
for the future.”