A sullen light gloomed in Amber’s eyes as she answered, quickly:
“She is down at the river with a young man, sir!”
“A young man! Why, what the duse——Mrs. Shirley, madame!” thumping his cane loudly on the floor to frighten the meek little widow. “Now what do you mean by letting that child Violet go gallivanting around with a young man?” he cried, violently.
Mrs. Shirley cowered before his black looks and murmured, deprecatingly:
“Dear me, Judge Camden, Violet is quite seventeen years old, and old enough to walk out with a young man, I suppose, considering that her mother was married at sixteen.”
“Don’t throw her mother up to me, you spiteful creature! Wasn’t it a runaway match, I want to know? And didn’t that wretch, Lieutenant Mead, break my poor girl’s heart in two years with his dissipations? A disgrace to the navy he was, and a good riddance when he died, I say! And what must have become of that poor baby Violet if I hadn’t brought her here and raised her—eh? And now, while I’m away, you let her begin to follow in her mother’s footsteps, you careless woman! But I’ll settle Violet’s future. She shall not elope like poor Marie! I’ve picked out a nice husband for her myself, and she is to be married in a month!”
“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” whimpered the simple little widow, dismayed at this bold declaration, while Amber exclaimed, maliciously, scenting a chance for mischief:
“But, grandpapa, Violet’s engaged already to Cecil Grant!”
Judge Camden sprang from his chair, his handsome old hazel eyes glaring under the beetling white brows. He thundered, furiously:
“No, she isn’t, by Jupiter! She shall marry the man I’ve chosen for her! Cecil Grant, indeed, the young jackanapes! Poor as a church mouse, with nothing but a handsome face and a long pedigree! He’ll never get my Violet, the fortune-hunting young scamp! Go, Amber, and tell her to come here to me instantly!”