“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.