“Get up, Violet, do. I never had any taste for private theatricals, and I am disgusted at your lack of good sense in refusing this splendid offer.” “But my heart was already given to another, you know,” tremblingly. “But,” with sudden propitiatory eagerness, “there’s Amber, you know--she’s not engaged. Perhaps she would take him, and you would still have him in the family, you know.” “He wouldn’t look at Amber. It’s you he worships! And let me tell you, miss, he’s far handsomer than your vaunted Cecil Grant. Here’s his photograph which he gave me for you. Look! did you ever see such a man as that?” He held up a cabinet picture before her eyes, and Violet looked at it with some girlish curiosity over her unknown admirer. It represented a very dark and very handsome man of about twenty-five years. There was no denying that in looks he compared very favorably with Cecil Grant’s manly beauty. But no sooner did Violet catch a glimpse of the picture than her face began to change from pale to crimson and back again, while her blue eyes glowed with disdain and anger. Drawing back, with a shudder of repulsion, she cried out, scornfully: “That wretch! That villain! That monster in human form! To dare to offer me his guilty, blood-stained hand! Oh, heavens!” Judge Camden was so startled by her agitation that he sprang to his feet and demanded, hoarsely: “Now what the duse do you mean, girl, by calling Harold Castello such outrageous names? Do you know him? Have you ever seen him?” Violet looked like one who had received some terrible shock. She lay back in her chair, gasping for utterance, her face the hue of death, her eyes glaring as though she beheld some hideous specter. Judge Camden shook her roughly by the shoulder, exclaiming: “What, in the name of all that’s evil, is the matter with you, girl? Here I show you the picture of a very good-looking young man, and you shriek out as if you had seen a Medusa! When I ask you a civil question, you won’t answer, but fall back in your chair and pretend to be fainting! Now what is the cause of all this? I demand an answer! Do you know Harold Castello? Have you ever seen him? And if you have, why did you abuse him in such awful terms?” CHAPTER IX. THAT FATAL SECRET. He stood waiting for an answer, his hand clutching her shoulder with a violence of which he was not himself aware, until she cried out with the pain. “Oh, you hurt me!” He loosened his angry grasp and said, impatiently: “Well, answer my question, then. What did you mean just now?” “What have I said? What have I done?” she moaned, lifting up her heavy head and awfully blanched face. “You have not forgotten?” he cried, incredulously. She put her hand to her brow, shuddering. “I have had some kind of a strange turn, but I think you asked me if I knew some one. Was it Harold Castello?” “Yes--do you?” “No, grandpapa, I have never heard that name in my life!” shuddered Violet.