“You are disappointed, I know, but it was impossible for me to bring Violet,” she cried, inwardly writhing at the sadness of his face. “I am sure it was not your fault,” he replied, trying to stifle his pain, and speak cheerfully. “No, indeed, but something has happened that has set grandpapa quite wild. Can you guess what?” “Violet is not ill again? Don’t tell me that, Amber,” he cried, anxiously, his thoughts flying in terror to his darling. “No, no, it is not that, Cecil. Violet is well, and wanted to come with me, but grandpapa made her stay at home to entertain--Harold Castello.” “So he has come?” Cecil cried out, jealously. “Yes, just an hour ago; and really, Cecil, he is a formidable rival.” “Handsome, eh?” he asked, trying to speak lightly. “He is magnificent. Dark as a Spaniard--in fact, grandpapa told me he inherited a strain of Spanish blood--and with the most winning manners, and a low, musical voice,” returned Amber, dwelling at length on Harold Castello’s perfections in order to arouse the demon of jealousy in Cecil’s heart. She had suffered all the agonies of jealous love herself, and desired that Cecil also should have a taste of that exquisite torture. She knew well that Cecil Grant was as handsome and even more attractive than Harold Castello, but it suited her purpose to expatiate on the new-comer. “If Violet were as fickle as some girls I have known, I should tremble for your chances, Cecil,” she continued, banteringly. “He is very fascinating, this man, and so rich, too. Of course that would count with many girls.” “Not with my true-hearted Violet!” he cried, proudly. She assented, carelessly saying: “No, for Violet is very romantic, and fancies that love and poverty combined will be very charming. I wonder how she will find the reality.” There was a hidden sneer in the words that he vaguely felt, and his cheek flushed as he said: “It is very noble in Violet to be content with my poverty. But I feel that fortune will one day change for me, and then she shall have all the luxuries of life!” “Will you drive with me a little way while I unfold my plans for the elopement?” she asked; and when he was seated by her side, driving along the sandy road, with the low murmur of the river in their ears, she continued: “Violet and I talked it over a long time last night, and decided on a plan, if it meets your approval.” He listened to her eagerly without speaking. “To begin with,” continued Amber, “Violet and I used to know a young divinity student in Alexandria, who now has a church in Washington. She would like this young minister, Wesley Christian, to perform the ceremony, if agreeable to you.” “Violet’s wishes are always mine,” he replied, with the gallantry of a true lover. “Well, that is settled,” said Amber. “Now we will go on to the next point, the elopement.” “Yes.” “It must take place to-morrow evening, for the day afterward is the one set for the marriage of Violet to the millionaire.”