During Cecil’s absence, Jasper Melrose, the husband of the kind woman at the cottage, returned on horseback from the village, and his wife begged him to see to the poor pony, lying so still in the road, under the overturned phaeton. A moment’s examination told the truth. The gray beauty was dead, driven to exhaustion by the merciless haste of his despotic mistress. Cecil had scarcely returned, before Tom Smith arrived with Doctor Jenner, who looked grave, as he examined the unconscious Amber, and declared that she was suffering from concussion of the brain. “It is impossible to say just now whether she will ever rally from her swoon or not. She must be put to bed, and we will do what we can, and hope for the best,” he said. He deftly sewed up the gaping wound on her temple, remarking that it was a great misfortune she had received it, since if she lived, it must disfigure her beauty for life with a deep scar. Mrs. Melrose put Amber to bed in her best room, and the physician declared his intention of remaining all night. He supposed that there would be a handsome fee from Judge Camden for attendance on his granddaughter, and determined to spare no attention. The cottage people supposed that the accident had been the result of a runaway, and Cecil did not undeceive them. He did not wish any one to know of the elopement that had ended so tragically. He did not love Amber, but his heart was full of grief and pain over her fate; and if she had died, and the truth of her treachery had never come to light, he would have cherished her memory always as something sweet and sacred. Even now, he had no conception of the great importance of the letter she had intercepted from Violet. For why should she write to him, the heartless girl, who had deserted him so cruelly, and was now the bride of another? It was only to taunt him with her happiness, of course. So he felt no real resentment against Amber for her deceitfulness. He judged her mercifully, thinking that she had withheld the letter to spare him pain. And, in his anxiety over her perilous condition, he scarcely remembered Violet’s letter, although it lay, unread, upon his breast. Why should he think of fickle, selfish Violet, when her noble cousin lay stricken down in all her youth and beauty, never, perhaps, to rise again. In those moments of his sorrow and gratitude, he was very near to loving Amber, at last, for pity is akin to love. Suddenly, Doctor Jenner approached him, and said: “It is very probable that she will lie in this comatose condition all night, and as you can do no good by remaining, might it not be a good plan for you to go and break the news to the family at Golden Willows, and bring Mrs. Shirley here to see after the young lady?” “I am not sure that Mrs. Shirley could come, as I am told that Judge Camden lies at the point of death; but I will go and see,” replied Cecil, who was very anxious to carry the news to his mother.