“Never!” thundered the stern old man, striding angrily away with Violet.
CHAPTER VII.
“HOW CAN I BEAR TO BE PARTED SO CRUELLY FROM MY DARLING?”
They carried Violet back to her bed, and Mrs. Shirley did everything possible to counteract the effects of her terrible excitement and exposure.
As soon as Cecil’s back was turned, Amber vehemently declared her innocence of his charges, vowing that Violet had fancied it all in her delirium.
No one contradicted her, for in their alarm over Violet, they scarcely listened to her words.
But that brief interview with Cecil, and the sweet assurance of his fidelity, had been more potent for good in Violet’s case than medicine. She yielded meekly to all Mrs. Shirley’s ministrations, and at last sank into a sweet and saving sleep that lasted until morning.
And, in spite of Amber’s secret prayers that she would die, the invalid began to convalesce slowly but surely, so that, by the middle of September, she could sit by the window in her easy-chair, and look out at the winding river and the wooded hills, whose dark green began to change to the crimson and gold of autumn.
Amber had been very shy of the sick-room after that night, when Cecil had foiled her clever scheme, but one bright morning she came into the room, determined to brave it out.
Violet was in her chair at the open window, and the sunshine came into the pretty blue and white room and beamed lovingly on its fair, golden-haired mistress in her soft, white cashmere wrapper, with its cascades of misty lace.
It did not touch Amber’s cruel heart in the least to see how frail and flower-like her rival looked. She was inwardly sorry that she had not died.