“It is a difficult undertaking, but I hope to accomplish it,” she smiled, confidently.
“How clever you are, Amber!” he cried, gratefully.
“Thank you!” she beamed, happily. “Now listen, Cecil.”
“I am all attention!”
“I have written to Wesley Christian, taken him into our confidence, and appointed seven o’clock to-morrow evening as the time, and his own little chapel as the place for the ceremony.”
“Yes.”
Amber continued:
“Violet is to be very gracious to Monsieur Millionaire to-morrow, so that when I beg grandpapa to let her go for a drive with me, he will consent. Then we will drive straight to Washington in the phaeton. You will come by train and meet us at St. Paul’s, you understand. After the ceremony you and Violet will start on a little wedding tour, while I return home alone.”
“But it will be late and cool for driving back alone through the woods,” he objected, thinking of her comfort.
“I shall not be afraid—not in the least. I shall be thinking all the while of the good deed I have accomplished in uniting two persecuted lovers. And now, Cecil, here is the card of Rev. Mr. Christian, with his church address. You cannot fail to find it, and success is ours, unless grandpapa follows with a shot-gun,” ended Amber, with a light, rippling laugh.