“Mrs. Maynard and the girls were wild with joy to see me. They had sought me vainly in the Fair grounds and outside, and then returned to the hotel, hoping to find me there. I told them the truth, as nearly as I could, that I had missed them at the Virginia Building, and a gentleman had secured a carriage for me and sent me home. As I told it, it seemed a very commonplace story, and no one dreamed of the secret tragedy it held--not even when Chicago was ringing the next day with the story of the mysterious murder of an old man at a notorious house in the suburbs. I was ill with a deep cold during our remaining time in Chicago, and went out no more until my return to Virginia.” In a few more words Violet told of her grandfather’s visit to Chicago, his acquaintance with Harold Castello, and the attempt to force an elopement which had ended so disastrously in her wedding the wrong man. Harold Castello had doubtless brooded over the fear of Violet betraying him until he had decided that the safest plan was to make her his wife, and thus place it forever out of her power to testify in a court of law to his infamous crime, the murder of a noble old man whose innocent daughter he had cruelly betrayed. While she was talking the moon went down, and the first gray beams of daylight began to lighten the darkness of the world. Lena Lavarre rose and took Violet’s hand. “We will go home now to my mother,” she said. “Our house is but two miles from this place, and we can soon reach it. Our enemy will never think of looking for you there. He believes that poor Lena Lavarre died in Chicago of brain fever, and he would not suspect you of knowing her mother.” Hand in hand they stole from the old house out into the frosty woods, creeping timorously along, and starting in fear if a dry twig crackled under their feet, or a dead leaf rustled overhead, for they were flying from a pitiless fiend whom they feared and abhorred, and every moment was an hour until they struck into the quiet suburban street where Lena’s widowed mother lived alone in a pretty little six-roomed cottage. Mrs. Lavarre was her daughter’s confidante in everything now, and so she was not much surprised when she returned, bringing with her a beautiful stranger guest. She welcomed Violet very kindly, and soon set before them a nice warm breakfast, after which they retired to sleep off the chill and fatigue of the cold night spent in the woodland hut. CHAPTER XXXVI. MRS. SHIRLEY’S TROUBLE. Several days passed very quietly and uneventfully at Golden Willows; for, strange to say, Harold Castello did not come there to seek for his fugitive bride. Amber was bright and happy, and gave herself up to the entertainment of company. Whenever this source of amusement failed her, she stole away to Bonnycastle, where she was now a welcome visitor.