“No, no,” cried Amber, wildly, still holding him, though he tried to place her gently back in the chair. “No, no, dear Cecil, never say that sorrow came of our betrothal, for it is the pride and glory of my life; and I would that we might be wedded this hour that I might dismiss the haunting fears of being torn away from you by that wicked old man, my grandfather. Ah, Cecil, darling, would that you loved me well enough to make me yours to-day!” The wild words were uttered, and she waited in sickening suspense and shame for his answer. She knew, though she dared not look up at his deathly pale face, how surprised and perhaps disgusted he must feel at her bold hints, almost entreaties, for an immediate marriage. He was indeed silent a few minutes from surprise and trouble, then he said, gently: “Calm yourself, dear Amber, for there is no cause for these tears. You need not fear Judge Camden, for you shall remain with us at Bonnycastle, in my mother’s charge until--until I can make arrangements for our early marriage.” Ah, how cruelly it pained his heart, still sore and aching from Violet’s loss, to promise Amber an early marriage; but her distress wounded him, and the debt of gratitude he owed her must be paid, at any cost. But her agitation only increased, and she cried, in anguish: “Alas, alas, he may come at any moment to tear me from you! Oh, Cecil, dear Cecil, forgive me if I seem unmaidenly--if I speak where I ought to be silent; but I swear to you that my whole life’s happiness rests on your instant decision, and on the keeping of your faith with me!” “What would you have me do, Amber?” he asked, in a perplexed tone, thinking to himself that although her terrors were exaggerated, it was best to humor her hysterical mood. With a great throb of hope at her heart, she answered: “I can never be safe from that vindictive old man until I am your wife, dear Cecil; and if you care for me, if you value my happiness at all, surely you will consent to my wish. Listen: my phaeton is at the gate waiting. Let us fly this hour to Washington and be married. Then we can return and defy my tyrannical guardian!” There was a long pause. Amber hid her face against his shoulder, and the mother and son looked at each other, his eyes questioning, hers grave, but--affirmative. “You cannot refuse,” her grave eyes said, sadly enough, for she was shocked and pained at the girl’s boldness. Amber lifted her head proudly. “I am refused. Very well, I will go,” she began, drawing back from him, but he answered, quietly: “You are hasty, Amber; I was about to say that it should be as you wish. You will excuse me one moment while I get ready,” and he went out, soon returning wrapped in his thick fur-lined overcoat, for a long, cold drive lay before them, and the air was thick with snowflakes.