This was their betrothal. Amber longed for a single caress, for even one cold kiss, but Cecil was too honest to proffer a wretched semblance of love that never could be a reality.
He was paying his debt to Amber, and he was showing Violet that he could console himself; that was all.
But, oh, the dazzling light of love on Amber’s face, the exultation in her flashing eyes! She cried out, happily:
“I am glad that you can throw off Violet’s spell so easily, dear Cecil, and I will try to make you happier than she ever could have done.”
“I thank you!” he answered, gently, although he knew in his heart that her boast was impossible.
All his soul cried out for Violet, his beautiful lost love. She was false, but he knew that he could never forget.
As he stood there gazing at her radiant face, he suddenly remembered that the stern old judge who had refused to give him Violet would reject his suit for Amber as well. He was ashamed of the relief that came with the thought, but he cried out, quickly:
“Ah, Amber, what is the use of our plighting any vows? Your proud grandfather would never consent to our marriage.”
“He shall consent!” Amber replied, with a proud toss of her graceful head, and she added, quickly: “I always told Violet that she could have her way with grandpapa by being more resolute, but she was timid and half-hearted, and her love for you was not strong enough to make her courageous in fighting her battles. It is different with me, Cecil, for I shall triumph, you may be sure.”
He smiled at her without replying, and she added: