Besides, he did not feel himself entirely blameless.
A handsome young man has no business paying pointed attentions to a lovely girl, unless he means to propose marriage, and Cecil knew that he had given Madame Grundy some room for gossip.
So it pleased him to find the injured one so willing to condone his fault and claim friendship in lieu of love.
He admired Amber very much, and carried away by her generosity, he warmly pressed her extended hand.
“You are ill, Amber—your hand is hot and burning!” he cried, in dismay.
“No, no! I am excited, that is all! Now, Cecil, we are friends again, are we not? And I will not try to envy Violet’s good fortune if you will give me the second place in your heart.”
She waited for him to answer, and the murmuring river filled up the pause. If he had understood its subtle language, it would have sounded like a note of warning: “Beware!”
But Cecil saw no treachery in the hazel eyes that looked up to him with such mute imploring. Touched by her generosity, he murmured:
“I pledge you my friendship, Amber, next to my love for sweet Violet; and if you ever need a favor, claim it from me as a brother.”
“Thank you, dear, dear Cecil,” she murmured, gratefully, plaintively, and passed out of his sight.