Judge Camden suffered from twinges of his old enemy, the rheumatism, and Mrs. Shirley moped in her most doleful fashion. Indeed, she was once or twice surprised by the old gentleman in tears. When he caught her for the third time surreptitiously wiping her eyes, his wrath broke bounds, and he demanded, curtly: “Now, what the duse is the matter with you, madame? Always going about red-eyed and sniveling.” Mrs. Shirley protested meekly that nothing ailed her but a bad cold. “Come, now, that is a fib, old lady. Tell me the truth immediately! Has anybody been treading on your feelings?” cried the old man, whimsically. “No-o-o, sir.” “Is anybody dead, then?” “Oh, I hope not, sir; but----” and the meek little widow’s voice broke in a stifled sob. Judge Camden eyed her in silence a moment, then thumped his stick on the floor and made her jump, thus revealing her reddened eyes and grief-stricken countenance. “Aha! so there is something the matter! Out with it now!” he exclaimed, in his sternest voice. “Oh, sir--please, it is nothing--only--only--I don’t want to offend, sir--but--I’m troubled over--Violet.” His grim countenance reddened with anger. “Troubled over Violet, eh? And why, may I ask?” “Oh, I don’t know, but I’m afraid she isn’t happy!” and the poor old woman trembled all over. “Not happy! I don’t see why,” he muttered, grimly. “Wouldn’t you be happy, Mrs. Shirley, if you were young and beautiful and off on your bridal tour with a rich and handsome husband?” “Not if I didn’t love him, judge,” she quavered, faintly. “What the duse do you mean? Didn’t Violet love Mr. Castello?” “Oh, sir, you know she didn’t. She told me every day how much she hated him, and how she adored Cecil Grant.” Mrs. Shirley had gone too far to retreat now, although her teeth were chattering with terror of his anger. But her whole sympathies were with Violet, and she could not keep back the words. Judge Camden’s eyes snapped viciously, and he cried: “If she didn’t love Mr. Castello, why did she marry him, eh?” “That’s what is troubling me,” returned Mrs. Shirley, frankly. “I know she hated him; and when Amber told me she had run off to marry him, it gave me a dreadful turn, for I thought what if he stole her off against her will?” “Tut, tut, tut! what a silly old woman! Violet married him for spite, if you must know the truth! It was Grant she was going to elope with, but he failed to meet her at the church, and Castello followed her there and pleaded his cause so well that she forsook her laggard lover and married him instead. That is the story, as Amber told it, and I think myself that Violet did a wise thing in giving young Grant the slip; although I ought to cane him for not keeping his appointment with my granddaughter.” Mrs. Shirley was dazed at this plausible explanation, but, true to her colors, she cried, sadly: