SWEET VIOLET. CHAPTER I. FAIREST OF THE FAIR. Judge Camden’s two beautiful granddaughters were the pride of Fauquier County, and both were so charming that Paris himself must have hesitated long before awarding the golden apple to one alone as fairest of the fair. Violet Mead and Amber Laurens were cousins and orphans, and looked upon as heiresses, for all of the old judge’s money would come to them at his death. Violet was as lovely as her namesake flower, a blonde, with curling golden hair, dazzling dark-blue eyes, a pink and white skin, and an arch, spirited face, where Cupid hid in bewitching dimples. She was barely seventeen, and Amber but one year older--Amber, the brilliant brunette, with her graceful, willowy form, so tall and slender, golden-hazel eyes, olive skin, and dark-brown tresses in smooth, satiny braids at the back of her proud little head. They were as different in mind as in looks, for Violet was frank, free, spirited, with a sunshiny nature; while Amber was quite the reverse in everything--reserved and dignified, with an undercurrent of jealous pride and passion. The two girls had never been as fond of each other as some cousins, but they were carelessly affectionate, and they might never have become so terribly alienated had they not had the bitter misfortune of losing their hearts to the same man. How many alienations have come from this one cause; how many awful tragedies have followed in its train; how many hearts have been broken for a jealous love! “Oh, Love! so sweet at first, So bitter in the end; Thou canst be fiercest foe, As well as fairest friend!” Cecil Grant had met Amber Laurens first while her cousin was away at boarding-school. He admired the brilliant brunette very much, and showed her enough attention to set the gossips of Greenville to predicting a match between the extremely handsome pair. But, suddenly, when the summer was at its goldenest, the Virginia skies their bluest, the flowers their fairest, Violet Mead came home from school, her curly, golden head full of romantic fancies, herself the sweetest flower that bloomed at Golden Willows, the judge’s picturesque country home. She had never had a lover, but the romantic little maiden had begun to dream already of her fate. When Cecil Grant met Violet, in her bonny, joyous girlhood, so happy and so lovely, it was like a revelation to his burning heart. He realized in a moment that his admiration for Amber had been but an idle fancy for a coquettish beauty. Let others hesitate as they would over the cousin’s beauty, he thought Violet the truest, fairest, purest, and most charming girl in the whole world. His heart went out to her in a tide of resistless love, and he vowed to win her for his worshiped bride. And if jealous, imperious Amber had not already given him her proud, passionate heart, he might have succeeded in his aim and realized his dreams of happiness and bliss.