And as she had kissed the ring first for the sake of hapless dead Linda, she kissed it again for Cecil, her noble lover, with the love-light in his dark, tender eyes, and the music in his wooing voice.
Amber was chagrined and baffled in her longing to see Violet cast the ring away in fear and disgust. So far her clever plot for possessing herself of the jewel had utterly failed, and her hazel eyes flashed malignantly under their drooping lashes.
Trying to keep the bitter anger out of her voice, she added:
“I will tell you how that old story was recalled to my mind to-day. Phebe told me that she met Mrs. Grant’s old servant, Uncle Bob, down the road this morning, and the old darky was in a state of excitement because the ghost had been singing over the tower last night, and Mrs. Grant was almost in hysterics to-day looking for some dreadful misfortune to befall the family.”
“May Heaven watch over that beautiful lady and her noble son, my beloved, and keep them from misfortune!” breathed Violet, turning her sweet, blue eyes heavenward.
Amber gave a low, sarcastic laugh, and exclaimed:
“It would seem as if the Grant’s family ghost considers your approaching marriage to Cecil in the light of a misfortune.”
“Ah, Amber, do not say such a thing, even in jest, for it would break my heart to bring trouble to my darling Cecil!” almost sobbed Violet, in nervous alarm.
“Of course I was jesting, child, although I fancy that the proud Mrs. Grant might be better pleased if her son had married some rich heiress, who could help him redeem the family estates, than a poor girl who will be only a burden to them both. But it cannot be helped, since Cecil has chosen you, and I consider that the banshee showed bad taste in bewailing the affair,” Amber rejoined, in a tone of delicate sarcasm.
“Oh, Amber, I do not believe that Cecil’s mother is at all mercenary, for I have heard it several times hinted that she refused our rich grandfather several years ago.”