“Now the wedding march may be
A low requiem for the dead;
And arms that fain would bridge death’s sea
May seal the tomb that’s o’er her head.”
Even Amber’s cruel heart was touched by the sad words and the pathetic voice, and she said, in a softer voice:
“Poor young bride! it was very sad.”
“Yes, but it was better to die than marry one she could not love,” Violet answered, very seriously, and Amber began to comprehend that Judge Camden would have some trouble in enforcing his authority. What if Violet should carry out her threat of suicide? A shudder ran over her as she pictured in her mind the scene of bridal pageantry, the flower-draped altar, the joyous music, and Violet dead before the altar in her bridal robes.
After a moment’s thought, she said, consolingly:
“Cheer up, Violet, for grandpapa’s mysterious choice may be as young and handsome as Cecil himself.”
“Oh, do not talk to me of that man, Amber, but tell me, instead, something of Cecil. Oh, my heart aches for news of my darling! Tell me, have you seen him since that night?”