CHAPTER XV.

SELF-TORTURE.

"And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness on the brain."--COLERIDGE.

That night of deepest woe to the passionate heart of Sibyl had been spent in pacing up and down her room, now hurling fierce, bitter maledictions on the head of him who had deceived her, and on this puny girl for whose sake she had been thrown aside; then in breathing wild, passionate vows of vengeance for the wrong, the deep humiliation that had been done her, and anon, throwing herself upon the floor in a convulsive fit of weeping. Then another mood would come, when she would forget all but the blissful days of the past, and all her despised love and tenderness would flood back to her soul, and her very heart would cry out to be with him again. And then would come the thought that this could never, never be again, and she would spring up with blazing eyes, her very tears seemingly turned to sparks of fire.

And, mingled with all these stormy passions was an under-current of deepest shame, of bitter humiliation, of wounded self-love and humbled pride. That she, the descendant of a haughty Highland clan, the daughter of a princely race, should be forgotten for one so far beneath her in every way, was a disgrace that sent the blood tingling to her pale cheeks, and made her clench her hands in impotent despair.

So passed the night.

With morning came a calmer mood. The necessity of adopting some line of conduct that would bring matters to a speedy denouement soothed for the time her frenzied brain. No one must know as yet of her desertion. She felt as though she could die sooner than survive the shame of such a discovery. Neither could she stay on the island. Her time for meeting her betrayer had not come; but it was at hand, and then----

The flame that leaped like forked lightning from her black eyes, the deep smile that curled her lips, better than words, spoke the rest.

Leaning her head on her hand, she thought intently. She would return to the parsonage, and remain there until her future course was decided upon. She could easily feign some plausible pretext for leaving the island, and good Mrs. Brantwell, she knew, would be but too happy to have her.

And, in pursuance of this resolution, she went early the following morning back to N----.

Mrs. Brantwell, as Sibyl anticipated, met her with a joyful welcome, and announced her resolution of giving a party a few evenings after in her welcome. Sibyl, in her present state of mind, would have shrunk from appearing in public; but as she could not do so without offending and surprising her hostess, and perhaps arousing her suspicions, she made no resistance to the plan.

"And you know, my dear," said Mrs. Brantwell, "now that you are an heiress, it is time that you should come out. Next winter you must go to New York and spend the gay season there; for, of course, you are quite too young to think of being married yet. I do not believe, for my part, in this new fashion of marrying girls before they are out of their bibs and tuckers, and having them settled down into old women before they are five-and-twenty. So, my dear, just politely inform Mr. Drummond that he must wait your ladyship's sovereign pleasure; and if he rebels, as of course he will, give him to understand he is not your lord and master yet, and you intend doing as you please. Men need to be put down, you know, my dear; it does them good, and takes the nonsense out of them." And Mrs. Brantwell laughed her jolly little laugh.

Sibyl averted her head to conceal the deadly paleness of her face.

"And now, Sibyl," continued the good old lady, "I want you to go with me to the island. Guy has told me of a lady and gentlemen who were saved from the wreck, and are stopping at that cottage, and I wish to invite them here to-morrow. So go and get ready."

"Mrs. Brantwell, excuse me, I would rather not go," said Sibyl, still keeping her face averted.

"Not go! What now, Mistress Sibyl? This is certainly something new," said the astonished old lady.

"I have a--headache, and would prefer lying down," said Sibyl, without turning round.

"Oh, in that case I suppose I must go alone. I'll send Betty up with some vinegar to bathe your head before I go," said the unsuspecting lady of the mansion, as she left the room to dress for her journey.

Captain Campbell, who was waiting for her on the shore, accompanied her to Mrs. Tom's and presented her to pretty little Mrs. Courtney, who took captive, almost instantly, the good lady's heart as she did that of most other people, and promptly accepted the invitation, to the manifest annoyance of her husband.

Mr. Courtney, though still quite weak and ailing, resolved also upon going, to watch his wife, under the conviction that her sole intent and purpose in going was to meet Captain Campbell.

And Willard Drummond, who was present, likewise received and accepted her invitation. What his motive in going could be, knowing Sibyl would be there, it would be hard to divine.

The evening for the party came; and at an early hour the drawing-room of the parsonage was all ablaze with lights. Carriage after carriage rolled up to the door, and bevy after bevy of fair ladies, elegantly dressed, flocked like bright-plumaged birds, through the brilliant rooms, and carried on gay flirtations with their friends in broadcloth.

Mrs. Brantwell, magnificent in black velvet, stood near the door to receive her guests. But every eye was fixed wonderingly, admiringly on Sibyl, who moved with the step of an empress through the throng.

Surpassingly beautiful she looked, with her crisp, shining curls of jet, shading on either side the burning crimson cheeks, her splendid Syrian eyes emitting a vivid streaming light, the rich dark robe of sheeney satin falling with classic elegance from her rounded waist; but the light in her eye was the fire of fever--the glow on her cheek the blaze of excitement, for the hour she had waited for was come, and Willard Drummond would stand arraigned before her that night.

Mrs. Courtney, bright, piquant, bewitching, divided the honors and admiration of the evening with Sibyl. Her husband, pale, ghastly, haggard with illness, and suffering the tortures of a mind deceased, moved like a specter, silent, gloomy, and watchful, through the merry throng. And Captain Campbell, elated, handsome, and courteous, was there too, the recipient of many a bewitching glance from the bright eyes present.

The company were all assembled, chatting, laughing, fluting, all but one. Sibyl stood in the midst of a gay group, the "bright particular star" of the evening, carrying on a spirited conversation, but ever and anon her eyes would wander to the door with fierce impatience. Why did he not come?

Edgar Courtney, standing gloomily by himself, was enduring the torments of a lost soul. His wife, knowing he was unequal to the effort, had endeavored to persuade him to stay; but this he ascribed to the wish of being alone with Captain Campbell. Then she offered to remain with him; and this, also, he refused, thinking, with strange self-torture, some evil design lay beneath. He would come--he would watch her; and Mrs. Courtney's high spirit arose, and she proudly and angrily resolved to act just as she pleased, and flirt just as desperately as she could. She had told him she did not love him--she had gone in defiance of his express command, in company with Captain Campbell, walking through the island; and from this slight foundation, Mr. Courtney judged his wife had fallen in love with Captain Campbell. Where his wife was concerned the man was a monomaniac.

And now he saw them before him, she leaning on his arm; her head bent, as with downcast eyes and smiling lips she listened to his low words. He gnashed his teeth, and glared upon them like a madman. At that moment his face was like that of a demon.

There was no dancing. Mr. Brantwell was a clergyman, and did not approve of it; but there was music, and as if to excite his jealous soul to madness, Captain Campbell led Laura to the piano, and hung over her, while she glanced slyly at him from under her long lashes, and sang "Oh, had we some bright little isle of our own," as though every word was meant for him alone.

Loud and long was the applause which followed. And then Captain Campbell led her to a seat, and took another beside her, and this low conversation was resumed.

Full with jealous rage, the self-tortured Courtney watched them, until, at the end of an hour or so, he saw Captain Campbell rise and leave her alone for a moment. Then, going over, and seeing all were too much engaged, by some one who was singing, to notice him, he grasped her fiercely by the arm, saying, in a hoarse whisper:

"Madam, do you mean to drive me mad?"

"No need; you're that already," said Mrs. Courtney, startled out of a reverie she had fallen into, but instantly remembering to be provoking.

"By heavens! I shall make you repent this conduct."

"Hush-sh! You mustn't speak so loud, my dear."

"Mrs. Courtney, will you tell me what you mean by permitting the attentions of this puppy?" he said, clenching his teeth to keep down his passion.

"Puppy! I'm surprised at your want of taste, Mr. Courtney. He's as handsome as Apollo."

"Ah-h!"

It was like a groan from a sepulcher, that deep, hollow respiration from his labored chest. He looked really a pitiable object, as he sat there, white, ghastly, and rigid. It touched with remorse his wife's heart, and, laying her hand on his arm, she said, more seriously:

"Edgar, don't be absurd. Positively you are as jealous as a Turk. I wish to goodness you wouldn't make yourself ridiculous this way."

"Laura, come away!"

"Come away! Where?"

"Out of this--any place--to the island again."

"Nonsense, Mr. Courtney! what an idea! I haven't the slightest intention of going away these two hours. It's very pleasant here."

"Lord! I am miserable in it."

"That's because, like little Jack Horner, you 'sit in the corner,' instead of mingling with the rest. I've seen some of the people looking at you as if they thought you were crazy."

"I shall be, if you continue this conduct much longer."

No one could look in his pale, haggard face and doubt the truth of his words. But Mrs. Courtney lost all patience.

"What, in the name of all the saints, have I done?" she burst out, angrily. "My own husband sits up like a living automaton in a dark corner, and pays me no more attention than if there wasn't such a pretty little person as Mrs. Courtney in existence; and because another gentleman, who has better taste, and doesn't wish to see me pining to death in solitude, pays me a few trifling attentions here, you come making as much fuss as if I were going to elope with him to-morrow. I declare I _will_ too, if you don't let me alone."

"You will!"

And the hollow eyes glared like those of a maniac. Even the taunting little wife quailed before it.

"Ugh! 'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' what a look that was. Really, Mr. Courtney, you are a ghoul, a vampire--a Vandal, a Goth! You'll scare the life out of me some day, if you don't take care. I wish to mercy you could be a little more reasonable, and not make such a goose of yourself!" said Mrs. Courtney, edging away from him.

"Take care, madam; it is not safe to trifle with me!"

"Well, who in the name of mercy, _is_ trifling with you? Not I, I'm sure. And now, Mr. Courtney, here comes Captain Campbell; and do, for goodness sake! drop this subject, and don't make a laughing-stock of yourself and me, too. What under the sun would the man think if he heard you?"

"Do not fear, Mrs. Courtney; I will not interrupt your _tete-a-tete_ with the gallant captain," said her husband, rising, with a ghastly smile. "I leave you to his care, satisfied you will make the best possible use of your time."

"That I will!" said his irritated spouse, turning her back indignantly on him, and greeting Captain Campbell with a smile.

Thus, in that scene of gayety, there were at least two tempest-tossed, jealous, passionate hearts--Edgar Courtney and Sibyl Campbell.

All the evening she had watched the door with burning, feverish impatience. Why, oh! why, did he not come.

Her heart was swelling, throbbing, as if it would escape from its frail tenement. She was growing wild, mad, with impatience and excitement. And yet, in spite of all her watching, he had entered unobserved by her.

At last, wrought up to an uncontrollable pitch of excitement, that was beginning to betray itself in every feverish action, she fled from the crowd that surrounded her, only anxious to be alone, feeling half crazed with her throbbing head and brow. A conservatory, cool, shady, and deserted, was near. Hither she went; and pushing open the door, entered.

A man stood revealed under the light of the chandelier.

With a suppressed cry of mingled surprise and fierce joy, she stepped back, and Sibyl and her false lover stood face to face.