“Oh, the pretty lady; she is dead!” whimpered the child, as the death-white face of Amber rested among the pillows of the sofa. Cecil feared that she was right, and he hastily unfastened her heavy fur jacket, and threw it back to place his hand on her heart. As he did so, the hidden letter slipped from its concealment and fell to the floor. He noticed it, but went on with his investigation, feeling anxiously for the pulsations of Amber’s heart. “Does it beat?” asked the woman of the house, anxiously. “Very faintly, I think. This may be only a deep swoon. Will you bring some water and bathe her head, please?” The frightened woman obeyed, and then Cecil said, courteously: “I will go for a doctor if you will direct me to the nearest one.” “There is one two miles away, sir----” and while she was giving explicit directions, the little fair-haired girl crept up timidly with the letter she had picked up from the floor. “The letter, sir, that dropped from the lady’s jacket.” “Don’t pester the gentleman, Millie,” said her mother, reprovingly, but Cecil patted the little sunny head kindly, and took the letter from her hand with a careless glance at the superscription. He gave a start of surprise, and his heart leaped stranglingly into his throat. The letter was addressed to himself in the beautiful, beloved, familiar writing of his lost Violet! He comprehended that Amber had lied to him and kept back this letter, the mere touch of which made his blood whirl in dizzy waves through his throbbing heart. But there was no time to read it now. Thrusting it against his heart, he dashed out of the door, and hurried in quest of the doctor. Within half a mile he encountered the person he was seeking, riding rapidly toward him on horseback, followed by the gardener from Golden Willows. “Doctor Perry, I was just going in quest of you. Miss Laurens has been thrown from her phaeton half a mile back from here, and seriously injured, I fear,” cried Cecil. But the old physician answered, brusquely: “My God, man, I can’t stop! I have been summoned post-haste to Judge Camden, who has been very strangely seized, and is thought to be dying. Let Tom Smith here ride back for my neighbor, Doctor Jenner,” and the old physician galloped past like the wind toward Golden Willows. “Will you bring the doctor for Miss Laurens, Smith, as I am on foot, and should make poor progress?” asked Cecil, anxiously. “Certainly, Mr. Grant, and glad to oblige you,” answered the gardener, turning his horse’s head and galloping back in the direction he had come. Cecil walked quickly back through the high wind and flying snowflakes to the cottage, where he found Amber still wrapped in deep unconsciousness, despite all the efforts the mistress of the cottage had put forth for her recovery. CHAPTER XLVIII. IN HIS GRIEF AND PITY, CECIL CAME VERY NEAR TO LOVING AMBER.