“Not cruel to you, my little love, for no one could be that!” cried the doting lover.
Suddenly Amber looked around at them, the angry frown all gone as if by magic, from her dark and brilliant face.
“I beg pardon for interrupting,” she began, “but really I see that I must speak a word for Violet.”
“A hundred if you wish!” he said, courteously.
“Cecil, you do not really comprehend the perils that environ poor Violet, because we have kept back from you a startling fact.”
“Oh, Amber——” Violet began, piteously.
“Hush, dear; I will tell Cecil the truth! He ought to know the real reason of your illness. I am ashamed of my grandfather, but he must know that it was a cruel blow from that old man’s hand that struck you senseless to the floor, and almost cost your life!”
How nobly indignant she looked as she uttered the words! Who could guess that, deep in her heart, Amber was furious that the cruel blow had not ended her rival’s innocent life.
“Oh!” breathed Cecil Grant, in deadly wrath and amazement, while the veins stood out on his forehead like whip-cords, and his hands involuntarily clinched themselves as though they were round the throat of the dastard who had sunk so low to all gentlemanly instincts as to strike a woman.
“Oh, Amber, I wished Cecil never to hear that!” cried Violet, in deep distress.