The power to speak one word, thy name I’d say.”
The sound of light wheels startled him from his sorrowful reverie, and, looking quickly up, he saw that he had wandered from the river-path to the open road, and, in a natty little phaeton rolling along the smooth gravel sat Amber Laurens, superbly attired, and handling the ribbons with consummate skill.
Cecil tried to retreat to the shade of some trees by the road, but he was too late. The beauty had seen him, and she chirped to her little gray pony to stop.
Then she called, airily:
“If you hide from me, Mr. Grant, you will miss the message I have for you from Violet.”
These words brought him quickly to the side of the phaeton, where he bowed to her, stiffly, for it was their first meeting since the night he had saved Violet from the river, and his heart was hot with resentment over her treachery.
“You have a message for me from Violet?” he cried, eagerly. “Please tell it to me quickly, for my heart is almost broken with suspense over my poor, ill-treated, suffering girl.”
CHAPTER XI.
AMBER’S FRIENDSHIP.
She could have slain him for the tenderness of his words and tone, but she only smiled blandly.
“You received my note, Cecil?”