CHAPTER XX.
THE STORY OF THE OPAL RING.
Suddenly the door opened and Amber entered the room.
The handsome brunette looked as gay and smiling as if she, and not Violet, were the prospective bride.
“Ah, Violet, moping here all alone! What is the matter?” she cried, lightly.
Violet turned her dark-blue eyes from contemplating the distant hills, and fixed them on the smiling, treacherous face of her cousin, sighing:
“Ah, Amber, I am so unhappy!”
“Unhappy? When a few hours more will see you Cecil’s bride! I am surprised at you, child.”
“Oh, Amber, there is a dreadful weight on my heart—a foreboding of evil that I cannot reason away!”
“Perhaps you are repenting your promise to Cecil.”
“No, no!”