Violet had clung so faithfully to the ring that this master-stroke was not possible to Amber, but, after all, it was not necessary, for Cecil did not dream of doubting her plausible statements.
But oh, the torturing agony of love betrayed! The anguish of loss and despair! the burning jealousy that filled his soul at Amber’s disclosures, no words could tell!
She had craved revenge upon Cecil Grant, because he had turned from her dazzling charms, to sun himself in the tender light of Violet’s dark-blue eyes. She had full measure of revenge now in the deadly blow she had struck at his loving heart.
A dagger in his heart would have been more welcome and less painful, for the keen thrust would have soon been over, and then merciful oblivion.
“’Twere better far
Never to love than love and lose again!
Better to have a sky without a star
Than for one setting weep in bitter pain!”
Amber’s gloating eyes did not lose one change of the pale, writhing face of her victim as the poisoned blade of her keen revenge rankled in his quivering heart.
He had uttered one terrible cry, and reeled in his saddle so that she feared he was going to fall; then his strength returned, he sat erect again, his handsome face ghastly pale in the moonlight, his eyes dark with despair.