When Violet heard of his sickness, and his bitter repentance, all her resentment melted away in a rush of tears. All his cruelty was forgotten, his kindness and love alone remembered. “I will go back to him at once!” she exclaimed, and hurried up stairs to seek Lena and tell her all. She found the poor girl weeping hysterically by her mother’s bedside, and told them everything as quickly as she could, ending by begging Lena to go with her to Golden Willows. She hardly dared to hope that Lena would consent, but after a moment of thought, she accepted the invitation, saying, frankly, that she wished to hear from the judge’s own lips the story of Harold Castello’s death, for she hoped that he had repented of all his wickedness, and made his peace with Heaven. It was strange that she should be anxious on the subject, but perhaps her wronged and outraged heart still held some lingering tenderness for the villain who had made shipwreck of her beautiful youth, for it is hard for a woman to unlearn the lesson of loving, and, knowing him dead, she hoped he would not be punished beyond the grave for his sins. But Mrs. Lavarre, who could remember nothing but the murder of her good old husband, and the betrayal of her innocent daughter, rejoiced in the knowledge that Harold Castello had passed to his dread account with offended Heaven. “Ah, how strange is life!” cried poor Lena. “Do you remember, mother and Violet, how I told you about seeing Jacques Brown in a funeral procession, on its way to the cemetery? How strange that my own heart did not tell me that Harold Castello lay in that coffin under the nodding hearse plumes, on his way to the grave! Yet, so it was, and he is swept from the earth, never more to bring sorrow to a woman’s heart.” “It is Heaven’s judgment upon the wicked,” her mother answered, solemnly. The two girls were soon ready for the trip, and after bidding an affectionate adieu to Mrs. Lavarre, they went down to the carriage that Cecil had waiting, and were soon driven to the train that was to take Violet back to the scenes from which she had been so cruelly torn. The journey was brief, and they talked but little, for the shadow of the tragedy at Golden Willows lay darkly on their hearts, and they wondered if Amber had indeed tried to murder her old grandfather, or if it was only an awful mistake. Perhaps she was already dead, and the mystery of the poison in her grandfather’s glass might never be revealed. The carriage was waiting for them at the station, and it was just midnight when they arrived at Golden Willows.