“IT WILL BREAK MY HEART TO GO!”
At Golden Willows Judge Camden and Amber were quietly triumphant, and
Mrs. Shirley weakly dazed at the news of Violet’s elopement with Harold
Castello.
“I never could have believed that Violet would jilt Cecil Grant!” cried
the little widow, in surprise.
“And why not?” cried Amber, tartly. “Mr. Castello was as handsome as
Cecil, and much richer; so I suppose that when Violet saw him, his
wealth turned the scale in his favor.”
“Perhaps so,” was the meek response of the downtrodden little widow,
who would not presume to argue with any one in that house.
But in her secret heart she was surprised at Violet, who had always
been her favorite cousin, and she was very sorry for Cecil Grant. Her
sympathies went out to him because he was poor and unfortunate like
herself, and she could not help suspecting that there had been foul
play somewhere.
“For why need Violet elope with Mr. Castello when her grandfather was
willing and anxious for her to marry him at home?” she asked herself;
but she did not dare to breathe the thought aloud, although she
observed with suspicious eyes the great friendship that had grown up
between the judge and Amber.
“How did she manage to get on the good side of the old sinner? I am
sure he used to regard Violet as his favorite,” she thought, in wonder.
But Amber cared nothing for Mrs. Shirley’s suspicions. She was jubilant
over the success of her plans for getting rid of her rival.
Judge Camden had given her the promised check for twenty-five thousand
dollars, and she was now ready to carry out the second part of her
scheme, to lend the money to Cecil Grant, and so place him under a
heavy obligation that he could only requite by the offer of his hand.
Even her grandfather had been surprised at the fertility of her brain
in conceiving wickedness, and had almost shrunk at first from her
advice to buy the mortgage upon Bonnycastle and turn the Grants out.
“The whole county would be down on me, Amber, for the Grants are highly
esteemed by everybody,” he objected.
“No one would dare to blame you to your face, grandpapa, and what would
you care for their inward thoughts? You are the richest man in the
county, and it would be a triumph to let that proud Mrs. Grant feel the
weight of your power,” cried the wily Amber.
“That’s so! I’ll do it!” cried the old man, still smarting under the
sting of his rejection by the mistress of Bonnycastle, and thus Amber
gained her wish.
She waited eagerly all the morning after the elopement for a note from
Cecil to tell her he would accept the loan of her money, but none came,
and she began to grow alarmed for the success of her scheme.
“He shall take it! I will go to his mother and tempt her so that she
cannot refuse,” she decided, and set out that afternoon for a stolen
visit to Bonnycastle, not daring to let her grandfather suspect her
design.
It was a chilly afternoon in October, and Amber made herself as
charming as possible, putting on her handsomest carriage gown and a
stylish new hat just received from New York, hoping to impress Mrs.
Grant with her beauty and grandeur.
She left the carriage at the gate and walked through the grounds, now
glowing in autumnal splendor, up to the splendid old ruin with the ivy
draping its battlemented towers, hoping she might perchance meet Cecil
loitering about.
But Cecil was nowhere to be seen, and when she lifted the rusty knocker
at the hall-door, the old black servant who took her card looked at her
as angrily as if she had been the old judge himself.
“I donno as missis is to home or not--leastwise she’s berry po’ly,” she
said, drawing herself up in grim majesty, for Judge Camden’s evil deed
was known in the kitchen as well as in the parlor, and deeply resented.
“Wha’ fer she come pokin’ aroun’ here arter her old grandad done act so
shameful? S’pose he done sent her to see how po’ ole miss takes it to
be turn outer house an’ home like dis?” thought Aunt Dinah, angrily,
and Amber read her thought.
“Oh, Aunt Dinah, please don’t be angry with me for my grandfather’s
doings! I am so sorry he has foreclosed the mortgage, and I came to
tell dear Mrs. Grant that I am ashamed of it all,” cried the beauty,
so sweetly that the old woman’s anger was at once disarmed, and with
returning smiles, she ushered the visitor into the large, shabby
parlor, with its faded carpet and curtains, and took the card to her
mistress.
Mrs. Grant was in her own cozy little sitting-room, lying dejectedly
upon a sofa drawn near the glowing wood-fire in the grate, and she
looked with a weary frown at the bit of pasteboard, exclaiming:
“Amber Laurens! Why, what does the girl want with me? I should think
she would have better taste than to come to Bonnycastle now.”
“Oh, missis, she tole me dat she am real sorry her grandad act so
ugly by you, and she come to tell you so. An’, missis, she am got on
de beautifulest gown I ebber seen, all black and yaller silk, and de
fines’ hat, black velvit wid yaller canary birds onto it, as nateral as
life! I sholy did like dem fine clothes!” admitted Aunt Dinah.
“But, Dinah, I do not feel well enough to see callers to-day. You must
tell Miss Laurens to excuse me,” murmured the lady, shrinking from a
meeting with any of the household from Golden Willows.
“Oh, sho, now, missis, you can see her jes’ as well’s not, for
you needn’t go down to de parlor room at all. She can come to de
settin’-room, and talk ter yer, layin’ dere so comf’able, dere now,”
urged Aunt Dinah, thinking that the call might divert the lady’s
melancholy thoughts.
“Oh, very well, Dinah; bring her in here, then. You will always have
your way,” sighed Mrs. Grant, and the old woman retreated, chuckling,
and soon ushered the beautiful young visitor into the presence of her
mistress.
“Dear Mrs. Grant, will you pardon me for coming at this time? Oh, I
could not help it! My heart ached for your trouble. I had to come and
tell you how grieved and sorry I am, and how ashamed of poor grandpapa,
who is getting so old that he is too much under the influence of his
lawyers. They have persuaded him to do this grasping thing, I know; but
although I have begged and begged him not to do it, he will not listen
to me. Oh, do say you will not blame me!”
Mrs. Grant had risen in her iciest manner to receive the unwelcome
guest, but Amber’s gushing outburst completely disarmed her hostility.
She took the outstretched hand and lightly kissed the inviting,
upturned lips.
“You are very good, my dear girl,” she said, falteringly and made room
for Amber on her sofa, though she realized in a moment how shabby her
worn black cashmere looked by the side of the visitor’s rich striped
silk.
Aunt Dinah withdrew, with a low chuckle of satisfaction, and Amber sat
gazing with curious eyes at the mistress of Bonnycastle and thinking
how much older she had grown since only yesterday, when this crushing
sorrow had fallen upon her. The wavy dark hair was thickly streaked
with gray, the pretty face was pale, the dark eyes dim and shadowed
from constant weeping.
“Oh, Mrs. Grant, how ill you look!” pursued Amber, tenderly. “It is a
burning shame that grandpapa should have distressed you so, and I will
never forgive him--never! I told him so only this morning, but I could
not move his hard heart. But we will outwit him, dear Mrs. Grant, for I
have a plan if you will only permit me to help you.”
“You, my dear Miss Laurens!” exclaimed her hostess, doubtfully, but
with a little thrill of hope.
It would break her heart, she knew, to leave the dear old home, and she
caught eagerly at every little gleam of hope.
“Please call me Amber--Miss Laurens sounds so distant. And Cecil
always calls me Amber. We are great friends, you know,” cried the girl,
eagerly.
“Indeed?” returned the lady, with slight surprise.
She thought but did not say that it was Violet surely in whom Cecil was
so much interested.
“Oh, Mrs. Grant, you have not heard the news about Violet, I suppose?
She eloped last night with a gentleman who has been visiting at Golden
Willows--a Mr. Castello, of Chicago. Oh, how surprised you look! You
thought she was Cecil’s sweetheart, did you not? So did we all, but our
Violet was always a sad flirt, and always preferred her latest lover.
Mr. Castello was very rich, too, and that carried the day with Violet.
So off they went to Washington last night and were married. Did not
Cecil tell you?”
“No, he did not mention it. I suppose he thought it unimportant
compared with our trouble!” Mrs. Grant answered, proudly, treating the
whole matter lightly, though her heart ached in secret for her poor
boy, thus made the victim of a heartless jilt.
Amber did not wish to wound her sensitive pride too deeply, so she made
no further reference to the elopement, and began, wheedlingly:
“Dear Mrs. Grant, my heart is almost broken over this affair. I cannot
bear to have you and Cecil give up your old home and go away among
strangers. It would be very cruel for you both.”
“It will break my heart to go!” cried Mrs. Grant, choking back a sob
that rose at Amber’s sweet sympathy.
“It must not be! You shall remain at Bonnycastle!” cried the young
girl, with a resolute air.
“Ah, my dear young girl, we are compelled to go! Cecil cannot raise
the money to pay off the mortgage, and Judge Camden has sworn that
unless he does so, we must give up the place in a week. Do not distress
yourself, my sweet young friend, over our fate, for it is fixed, and I
must cultivate resignation,” sighed the unhappy lady.
“Perhaps if you would appeal in person to my grandfather----” began
Amber, but Mrs. Grant shook her head decisively.
“Never!” she replied, with flashing eyes, and lips curled in disdainful
pride.
“How she despises the old gentleman!” Amber thought, with secret
amusement, then said, aloud, gently:
“Perhaps you are right not to humble yourself to that hard old man.
And, indeed, there is no need, for you can defy his power. I can help
you to do it.”
Mrs. Grant looked in unfeigned wonder at the beautiful creature whose
face was so bright and spirited in the leaping flames of the firelight.
“My dear Amber, I do not understand you,” she answered, with a helpless
little sigh.
“I know you do not, dear Mrs. Grant, but I will soon make it clear to
you. I did not intrude on you this morning to offer useless sympathy,
but to give you real help. I have a little fortune of my own, quite
independent of my grandfather, and I will lend you the money to pay off
the mortgage on Bonnycastle and keep your home.”
The startling words were spoken, and Mrs. Grant could not answer, from
sheer surprise.
She had not known that either of the nieces of Judge Camden possessed a
dollar in their own right, and she instantly decided that some of her
father’s relatives had left Amber a legacy. But her kindly sympathy,
her generous offer of so large a sum struck her dumb.
Amber saw the effect of her words and exulted. Without waiting for a
reply, she continued, eagerly:
“Do not refuse my offer, Mrs. Grant, for it will make me very happy
to enable you to pay off the mortgage and remain at Bonnycastle. And
grandpapa need never know the truth. My money is under my own control,
and I can convey it to you without his knowledge. Oh, how proud and
glad I should be to do this small favor for you and your dear son!”
“This is very noble, very unexpected, and very--tempting--to me, dear
Amber; but--but--I am sure it would not be right to accept. Cecil is
very proud,” Mrs. Grant sobbed, almost breaking down in her gratitude
to the fair young girl, her eagerness to accept her offer, and her
consciousness that Cecil was far too proud to accept this favor from
Judge Camden’s granddaughter.
Amber did not tell her that she had already spoken to Cecil on the
subject. She answered, hopefully:
“I cannot believe that Cecil would be so cruel as to let you leave
Bonnycastle, if by any fair means he can retain it for you. I know he
loves you very dearly, and would be willing to sacrifice his pride a
little for your dear sake. May I stay with you, dear friend, till he
comes, and we will plead with him together?”
“Yes, stay, dear,” was the glad reply.