WHAT GLORIOUS NEWS FOR A LOVER!
He threw himself into the saddle, and set out for Golden Willows and
Bonnycastle.
The short winter afternoon was far spent, but the snow had ceased to
fall, and was melting upon the ground. In the sky, the twilight was
darkening over the blue, as he drew rein at Golden Willows.
They told him at the gate that Judge Camden was alive, but going fast,
although the physician was doing all he could to save him. No one knew,
as yet, the cause of his strange seizure.
Mrs. Shirley was in the sick-room when the message came to her that
Cecil Grant was waiting to see her for a moment, on very important
business.
The invalid, whose severe cramps had been subdued, lay still and
death-like on the bed, but he caught the words and made a gesture to
Mrs. Shirley:
“Tell Cecil Grant to come up here,” he said, weakly.
Startled, but not daring to disobey, she went down to Cecil, who
hurriedly imparted his bad news.
“Doctor Perry has already told us, and I am very sorry for Amber, but I
cannot leave Judge Camden,” she replied.
“Is he so very ill, then?” asked Cecil, and she answered:
“We fear that he will die. I will tell you a terrible secret, known
only to the doctor and myself. Judge Camden is suffering from arsenical
poisoning. He drank half a glass of wine given him by Amber, and was
soon seized with terrible cramps, and rang his bell. I answered it, and
finding him suffering so much with his stomach, administered a mustard
emetic, then sent for the doctor. When he came he suspected arsenic
from the symptoms, and found in the half-glass of wine that remained
a quantity of the terrible drug. We cannot imagine how it happened.
Amber must have made a terrible mistake. Fortunately, the judge did not
get the full dose, or he would be dead ere now. Doctor Perry declares
that the mustard emetic saved him, but he is very weak, and may die
of exhaustion. In fact, he believes himself dying, and has asked to
have you sent up to him--I suppose to ask your forgiveness for all his
enmity toward you.”
Cecil could not refuse the plea of a dying man. He followed Mrs.
Shirley to the judge’s room.
The weak eyes rested, with a gratified look, on Cecil, and the old man
said, feebly:
“Doctor Perry, you may leave us alone for a few minutes, please.”
The physician retired, thinking that the young lawyer had been summoned
to draw up the judge’s will, and Mrs. Shirley and Cecil stood waiting
by the bedside.
“I sent Amber to bring you here, Mr. Grant,” quavered the old man’s
feeble voice. “I suppose she told you all about Violet, and the mission
I wanted you to undertake?”
“You surprise me, Judge Camden! I have received no message from you on
the subject.”
“Then Amber played me false, the deceitful girl! and perhaps she made
no mistake when she put the poison in my glass and urged me to drink
it. And--I am dying, I fear, and have little strength to tell you what
is in my mind. But listen: I repent of all my wickedness to you. Can
you forgive me?”
“Freely, sir,” and Cecil pressed the cold, damp hand kindly.
“I thank you,” breathed the judge, in deep emotion, and added: “I
have great news for you. Violet ran away from her husband within an
hour after she married him, and has been missing ever since. I have
sought her everywhere, but in vain, and I believe that you may be more
successful in the quest. Will you find her for me?”
“Surely, sir, that should be her husband’s duty,” Cecil answered, with
irrepressible bitterness.
“But did I not tell you? No, I was forgetting. Harold Castello is dead.
Besides, Violet hated him, and was cruelly tricked into marrying him,
believing it was you, whom she loved, with her whole heart. Ah, Cecil
Grant, you have been cruelly wronged by the plot Amber helped me to
carry out against you; but all will come right now, if you only find
Violet, whose fate is wrapped in impenetrable mystery. Alas! I fear she
has committed suicide!”
What a flood of joy rolled over Cecil’s heart at the judge’s words!
Violet was true! Violet had loved him always! She had been cruelly
tricked into marrying Harold Castello, and had fled from him in horror
and disgust. And now her wicked husband was dead! Oh, what glorious
news for a despairing lover, whose heart had been almost broken by the
news of his adored one’s falsity!
He thought, with a shudder, of how Amber had deceived him, and how
nearly she had come to being his wife--an eternal barrier between him
and his heart’s darling! It dawned on him that retribution overtook her
in the very moment of approaching victory.
“Yes, I will find Violet for you!” he exclaimed, eagerly, his face
glowing with joy.
“She is not dead,” he added, thrusting his hand into his breast, and
bringing out the letter he had at that moment remembered.
“It is Violet’s handwriting!” almost shrieked Mrs. Shirley, and he
answered:
“Amber took it from the post-office this morning, and I found it in her
jacket when she was carried, unconscious, into the Melrose cottage. I
have not read it yet, but I will do so now, and we will soon know where
to find our sweet Violet!”
His happy eyes ran eagerly over the closely written pages, and very
soon their hearts were gladdened by the news that Violet was with
friends, no farther away than Washington. Cecil declared he would go on
the first train and bring her home to Golden Willows.