“No, Violet, I have not seen him; but he has not gone away, I know, for he has sent you several letters and bouquets since that night.”
“Oh, Amber, why were they not given to me?”
“Grandpapa sent them back with angry messages.”
“Oh, it is a wicked shame! Grandpapa had no right!” sobbed Violet.
“Of course not, but he is like the robber barons of old. He believes that might makes right,” laughed Amber.
“Oh, Heaven! how cruel he is! How can I bear to be parted like this from my darling? The end of it will be that I shall elope, as my poor mother did before me!” wept Violet, hiding her tearful face in her little white hands.
Amber caught the gleam of a glowing jewel that hung loosely yet on Violet’s wasted finger, and she cried out, sharply:
“Did Cecil give you that opal for an engagement ring?”
“Yes,” sobbed Violet, and added: “He told me the gem would remain bright as long as he was true to me, but if false, would grow dull and lifeless. Is not that a pretty fancy, Amber?”
“Pretty enough, but I would not wear an opal ring for anything on earth! It is a very unlucky stone, and is said to bring misfortune to the wearer. I wonder that Cecil gave it to you; but then, I suppose he was too poor to buy you a new one and made this do,” sneered Amber, adding, after a moment’s thought: “I remember to have heard that the Grants had an old opal ring in the family with a very curious history. I will try and get the particulars and tell you all about them some time, Violet. There are always strange stories in old families like Cecil’s, you know. But now I must go and dress for my morning drive, so au revoir.”