Her bitter experience of his cruelty and unkindness had left Violet no faith in her grandfather’s affection. She believed that he was only acting on Harold Castello’s behalf. Accordingly she ignored the personals, and clung more closely to her refuge under the hospitable roof of the gentle Widow Lavarre and her hapless daughter Lena. At the end of a week the personals assumed another form: “Will Violet please let me know where she is, and I will keep her secret if she wishes me to do so. I am very unhappy over her flight. UNCLE GEORGE MEAD.” Violet’s heart was so touched by this appeal that she would have replied to it, but her friends dissuaded her and whispered caution. “Harold Castello has perhaps enlisted the Meads on his side, and if you write to them, it may be they will deliver you into his hands. Remember how rich he is, and what a power his great wealth gives him in influencing other people. Doubtless your relatives think that yours would be an enviable fate as his wife,” declared Lena; and there was so much truth in her words that Violet decided to ignore this personal as she had done the others. It seemed to her that the whole world was in league against her, that she had no friends outside of the two lonely women who gave her so warm a welcome beneath their roof. CHAPTER XLI. JUDGE CAMDEN’S RETURN. “It is quite strange how long Judge Camden stays away!” Mrs. Shirley remarked to Amber, when the old man had been absent two days. “I am sure it is quite as pleasant without him!” that young lady returned, flippantly. Truth to tell, she found it pleasanter, for half of her time was now spent at Bonnycastle, and no one questioned her movements. She knew that a grand explanation must come some day, but decided to defer it as long as possible. So she rejoiced in her grandfather’s absence, and the letter that came from him that day contained very gratifying intelligence, as it stated that he would not probably return for a week, owing to the dangerous condition of his sick friend. He also requested that all letters that arrived for him might be promptly forwarded to the general post-office in Washington. Mrs. Shirley was quite curious over the mysterious sick friend on whom the judge was attending with such assiduous care. But Amber disclaimed all knowledge of the name and estate of the interesting invalid, and, absorbed in her own affairs, she had no interest in the matter, little dreaming how vitally it affected her own future. But Mrs. Shirley fretted more than ever. “What if it should be our Violet who is sick?” she said, uneasily. “Nonsense! Violet has arrived in Chicago long ere this,” Amber said, carelessly; but she did not think it necessary to tell the old lady the falsehood that she told Cecil about receiving a letter from Violet. She cared nothing for the meek and gentle old widow who in that stately house scarcely dared claim her soul as her own.