“I am sure it is quite as pleasant without him!” that young lady returned, flippantly.
Truth to tell, she found it pleasanter, for half of her time was now spent at Bonnycastle, and no one questioned her movements. She knew that a grand explanation must come some day, but decided to defer it as long as possible.
So she rejoiced in her grandfather’s absence, and the letter that came from him that day contained very gratifying intelligence, as it stated that he would not probably return for a week, owing to the dangerous condition of his sick friend. He also requested that all letters that arrived for him might be promptly forwarded to the general post-office in Washington.
Mrs. Shirley was quite curious over the mysterious sick friend on whom the judge was attending with such assiduous care.
But Amber disclaimed all knowledge of the name and estate of the interesting invalid, and, absorbed in her own affairs, she had no interest in the matter, little dreaming how vitally it affected her own future.
But Mrs. Shirley fretted more than ever.
“What if it should be our Violet who is sick?” she said, uneasily.
“Nonsense! Violet has arrived in Chicago long ere this,” Amber said, carelessly; but she did not think it necessary to tell the old lady the falsehood that she told Cecil about receiving a letter from Violet. She cared nothing for the meek and gentle old widow who in that stately house scarcely dared claim her soul as her own.
So she turned away rejoicing in her grandfather’s absence, and went away gayly to the piano, where she spent an hour playing brilliant operatic gems, trying to while away the time until she could start on her afternoon visit to Bonnycastle.
“How I wish that Cecil could come to visit me here!” she sighed, and then fell to wondering how she could re-reconcile her grandfather to her marriage with Cecil.