“Oh, Cecil, I’ve been waiting so long for you to come!” she sobbed, and he answered: “But I’m not much behind time, Amber. I only ran down to the post-office before coming home to luncheon. And, by the way, Amber, I was told you had called for my mail and taken it away.” He looked at her expectantly, and she faltered: “I was on my way to Bonnycastle, and thought I would save you the trouble of calling for your mail. But, Cecil, there was only one letter, and as I held it in my hand--can you ever pardon my carelessness?--the breeze caught it from me, and whirled it into the river.” She wished with a sudden uneasiness that she had indeed tossed Violet’s letter into the river, but she had kept it, with woman’s proverbial curiosity, to read at some future convenient time. Cecil’s dark, handsome face was grave with disappointment, but he stifled his vexation, and said, courteously: “It cannot be helped now, but I dare say it was of no importance--although I fancy I shall be curious all my days over the contents of that lost letter.” “But you never shall know the truth about it,” thought Amber, vindictively, and she resolved to destroy the letter at the first opportunity. Then, suddenly, she burst into tears again, and Mrs. Grant said, anxiously, to her son: “Amber is in some deep trouble, and promised to explain all as soon as you arrived.” He turned quickly to the weeping girl, saying, tenderly: “What is it that has grieved you so bitterly, my dear girl?” Unheeding Mrs. Grant’s presence, and with a torrent of tears, Amber threw herself into Cecil’s arms, clinging wildly to him, and sobbing, miserably: “Grandpapa has turned me out of doors, driven me from home, and I have come to throw myself upon your protection.” “Turned you out of doors! Good heavens! why has Judge Camden done this cruel thing?” demanded Cecil, wonderingly, and she moaned, despairingly: “He found out that--that--it was I who loaned you the money to save Bonnycastle, and he--he--struck me, and drove me from home!” CHAPTER XLVI. TOO MUCH HASTE DEFEATS ITS OBJECT. Dumb with amazement and indignation, Cecil stood passive in the clasp of her clinging arms, while she raved on: “Oh, Cecil, he is so terrible in his wrath! He threatened such terrible things! He swore that I should never be your wife! Oh, I am so frightened, so wretched! Would that I were dead!” “Poor Amber! All this comes of loving me! Oh, I was wrong to accept your generosity, I was wrong to make you my betrothed; I should have known that sorrow would come of it!” exclaimed Cecil, in deep agitation and sympathy, although no throb of love stirred his heart for the beautiful girl clinging to him in such passionate love.