The only gleam of brightness in her life was when Amber brought the daily letter from Cecil, the fond, loving letters, counseling courage and patience, and assuring her that, no matter how much the judge might bluster, he could not marry her to Harold Castello without her consent.
Cecil did not really know how wicked and cruel the old man could be. Violet had kept from him, in very shame, the knowledge of the cruel blow that had caused her almost fatal illness.
She could not bring herself to confide the humiliating story to her noble lover, but she knew well that he did not fully realize the perils by which she was surrounded.
“Only to see him, if but for one short hour!” was the yearning cry of her anguished heart. It seemed as if one look into his beautiful, brave, dark eyes, one clasp of his strong white hand, would endow her with new life and hope.
“Only to see you, my darling,
Only to hear your voice;
Even its faintest whisper,
Would make my heart rejoice!”
In her despair, she turned to Amber, crying:
“Oh, Amber, you are so good, so clever, do think of some plan to let me see my darling Cecil, if only for one short hour!”