CHAPTER XIX.

THAT DAY.

"The day is lowering, stilly black, Sleeps the grim wave."

"Really, Sibyl, my love, you are getting to be a most singular girl. Two or three days ago you were all in the dismals; then, after the party, you got as amiable and bright as a June morning; and scarcely had you promised to stay with me here for an indefinite length of time, and I was congratulating myself on having secured you here, when Guy brings you a tiny note from this little blue-eyed island-girl, Christie, and lo! you are off on the wing again, and I am left to go moping about like a poor old hen-turkey with the distemper."

"But my dear Mrs. Brantwell," said Sibyl, "you have Mrs. Courtney, who is twice as agreeable and lively a companion as I am. It's impossible for you to go moping around, as you say, when she is here."

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Brantwell, "that's all very fine, without being in the least consoling. I want you. Mrs. Courtney's very lively and all that, I know; but I invited her here as much to keep you in spirits as anything else, and now you fly off and leave us for my pains."

"I am very sorry, Mrs. Brantwell, to disturb your amusements," said Sibyl, gravely; "but when I tell you this affair is of the utmost importance to me, and that my happiness, in a measure, depends upon my going, I am sure you will withdraw your objections."

"Your happiness? Now, Sibyl Campbell, I would just like to know what this island-girl has to do with _your_ happiness?" said Mrs. Brantwell, folding her fat hands, and looking in Sibyl's face.

"More than you would ever think, perhaps--more than I once ever dreamed myself she would have," said Sibyl, while a cloud fell over her brow. "But enough of this. I cannot explain further at present. The amount of it is, I must go to-night!"

And Sibyl's face assumed that look of steady decision it could sometimes wear.

"Humph! particularly mysterious all this. When do you return?"

"That depends upon circumstances. To-morrow, perhaps."

"Sibyl, do you know what I think?" said Mrs. Brantwell, with such abrupt suddenness that the young girl started.

"No, indeed; I do not pretend to divination," she said, with a smile.

"Shall I tell you?"

"If you please. I am all attention."

"And you will not be angry with your old friend, who talks for your good?"

"Of course not. What in the world is this preface about?"

And Sibyl's large eyes were fixed surprised on the fair, florid face of the matron.

"Well, then, Sibyl, it's my opinion you're jealous of some one," said the old lady, with the air of one who has made a discovery.

Sibyl's dark face flushed, and then grew very pale.

"And that's a very miserable feeling, my dear," said Mrs. Brantwell, composedly, "and also very foolish. No sensible person ever gives way to it, because they only bestow their affections on those in whom they can place implicit trust. Now, I hope you have too much good sense to fancy Mr. Drummond can care for any one in this world more than you."

Sibyl sat with her face averted, and made no reply.

"I had too high an opinion of you, Sibyl," went on the old lady, very gravely, "to think you could stoop to be jealous of any one, much less an insignificant little girl like this Christie. Don't be angry, my love; I am talking for your good. And indeed you have not the slightest cause to fear a rival; for, go where you will, you cannot find one more peerlessly beautiful than yourself. I don't say this to make you vain--though I know you, my queenly darling, could never be vain--but it is to inspire you with confidence. Come, my dear child, shake off this feeling that is unworthy of you. Mr. Drummond, I feel assured, has never for an instant wavered in his fidelity to you."

"Who said I was jealous?" said Sibyl, passionately. "I am not. He _dare_ not be false to me. Let him try it at his peril. He knows I am not one to be trifled with."

"Why, my dear, your very vehemence convinced me of what I only suspected before. I am afraid you will be very unhappy, Sibyl, if you indulge in such feelings. You ought to try and cultivate a more trusting spirit, my dear; without perfect faith in the person we love, there can be no happiness.

"I do trust! I _do_ trust! I _will_ trust!" said Sibyl, clenching her small hand as though she would in a like manner shut out all doubt from her heart. "But, oh, where we love, the faintest symptom of distrust is madness."

"Where we love truly we feel no distrust, Sibyl."

"Oh, you do not know. Do I not love truly? Have I not staked life, and heart, and happiness on him, and yet----"

"You doubt."

"No, no--not now. I did doubt, but that time has gone," said Sibyl, with a sort of incoherence.

"Then, wherefore this visit to the isle, Sibyl?" said Mrs. Brantwell, fixing her eyes searchingly on her face.

Before Sibyl could reply, a sound, as if of a heavy fall below, reached their ears.

"What can that be?" said Mrs. Brantwell, starting up.

"It sounded like some one falling," said Sibyl, listening breathlessly. "I will go down and see."

She flew down the long staircase, followed by Mrs. Brantwell; and, on entering the room, there they found Mrs. Courtney lying senseless on the floor, her face deluged with blood.

"Great Heavens! what has happened!" said Sibyl, turning faint and sick at the sight.

"Oh, I know," said Mrs. Brantwell, wildly, as she hurried forward and raised the slender, prostrate form. "Oh, that demon of jealousy! How many souls is it destined to torture? Sibyl, please ring the bell."

"But what does this mean? I do not understand," said Sibyl, as she obeyed.

"Why, this poor child's husband is crazy with jealousy--I have observed it, though she thought I did not."

"Heaven be merciful! he cannot have struck her?" said Sibyl, white with horror.

"Oh, I do not know; but jealousy will make a man do anything--commit murder. It has done it before now, and will again. Jenny," she said, as the mulatto servant entered, "tell Tom to go instantly for the doctor, and then come back and help me to carry this poor lady up stairs."

The alarmed girl flew to obey; and after dispatching the boy for the doctor, hurried back and aided Mrs. Brantwell in conveying the slight form of Mrs. Courtney to her room.

Then, with some tepid water, she washed off the blood and disclosed a deep gash right above the eye, which continued bleeding so profusely as to awaken fears for her life.

"Oh, I fear she will bleed to death! Would that the doctor were here!" said Mrs. Brantwell, wringing her hands in deepest distress.

"And here he is," said Sibyl, as at that moment the doctor hastily entered.

After examining the wound the doctor pronounced it dangerous, but not fatal, and soon succeeded in stopping the bleeding. And then the dark eyes of Laura opened wildly, and wandered with a vague, frightened look around.

"My poor child, what has happened?" said Mrs. Brantwell, bending over her, and parting the bright disordered hair on her pale brow.

"Where is he?" she said, grasping Mrs. Brantwell's arm, convulsively.

"Who, love?" said Mrs. Brantwell, gently.

"Oh, he--Mr. Courtney," she said, in the same frightened whisper.

"He is gone, dear. Did he strike you?"

"Oh, no!--no, no!" she cried, wildly. "I fell, and struck against something. Oh, my head! I am going crazy, I think."

"Hush, love! You must not excite yourself. Lie still, and do not talk."

"I have been very wicked--very rash," she said, "but, I did not mean it. Oh, I never meant it--I never--never meant it!" she moaned, pressing her hands over her heart.

"My dearest child, I know it. But it will hurt you to talk so much."

"Yes, yes; I always did talk thoughtlessly, and it has driven him mad. Oh! I loved him once, and I have driven him mad, now," she cried, wringing her pale fingers.

Mrs. Brantwell looked at the puzzled doctor in deepest distress.

"Give her this; it will compose her," said that gentleman, who could not tell what to make of all this.

"Drink this, love; it will soothe you," said that good lady, raising the poor, wounded head of the young wife, and holding the cup to her lips.

With the passive obedience of a child, she complied, and fell back on her pillow. And, gradually, the wild, frenzied expression left her face, and she fell into a deep slumber.

"And now, she must be kept very quiet," said the doctor, as he took his hat and gloves. "There is not the slightest danger, if she is not allowed to excite herself, and is carefully nursed, which I know she will be, with Mrs. Brantwell. Repeat the medicine, when she wakes, and I will call again, to-morrow."

And the doctor bowed himself out, while Mrs. Brantwell sat down beside the poor, pale sleeper, fanning her gently, and watching her while she slept.

Sibyl, seeing her presence was not necessary, went down to the parlor, where she found Willard Drummond awaiting her. She started in alarm, for his countenance was grave and deeply troubled.

"Why, Willard, what has happened?". she asked, hurriedly, quick to take the alarm, where he was concerned.

"Sibyl," he said, slowly, "I am obliged to leave you."

She turned deadly pale, and her large, dark eyes were fixed on his face, in agonized inquiry.

"Scarce an hour ago, I received a letter from home," he went on, "saying, that my father was at the point of death, and, if I ever wished to see him again, I must hasten there, immediately. I have not a moment to lose. I start instantly; but first, I have come to take leave of you."

The news came so suddenly, that, for a moment she seemed stunned.

"When do you return?" she said, in a voice faint with emotion.

"Soon, I hope; but, I cannot, as yet, tell. Farewell, my own, dearest love; believe me, I will return to you as soon as may be."

"And you will write?" she said, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Certainly, Sibyl--that will be my first care. Remember me to our friends, and explain to them the cause of this abrupt departure. And now, once more, adieu."

He pressed her to his heart, and then quitted the house, and, mounting his horse, rode rapidly away.

Once he paused, and looked anxiously in the direction of the isle. He thought of Christie receiving his note, and waiting for him in vain, at their lonely, trysting-place.

"What will she think of my absence?" he mused; "for, I know, poor, faithful child, she will await my coming there, until morning dawn. What cause will she assign for my not keeping my appointment? Well, I cannot help it. I dare not wait until morning; and she will hear to-morrow, why I was absent."

And he rode on, never thinking whether Christie was destined to live to see that eventful tomorrow, dawn.

When he was gone, Sibyl sat for a few moments, with a feeling of utter desolation. She knew he was not to be gone long; but, it was their first parting, save the few days she was absent in New York, and there was a dreary sense of loneliness--a passionate longing to be with him, to never leave him--filling her heart. With her hands lying upon the table, and her head dropped upon them, she remained wholly unconscious of the flight of time, until the entrance of Mrs. Brantwell, aroused her.

She lifted her head and tried to listen, as the good old lady spoke of Laura.

"She has had a quiet sleep, and now appears much better. But how pale you are, Sibyl! Are you going to be ill, too?"

"No, I am quite well; only it gave me such a shock, it was so sudden," said Sibyl, pressing her hands to her throbbing brow.

"Yes, I don't wonder at it," said Mrs. Brantwell, thinking the shock she alluded to, was the sudden sight of Laura. "I came to look for a sponge, and must go back to Mrs. Courtney, now."

She left the room, and Sibyl went to the window, and looked out.

The afternoon was waning, the sun was slowly sinking toward the west, and, Sibyl saw, with some concern, that a dark, dense cloud was rising.

"There is a storm coming, and perhaps there may be no boat from the island, after all," she said, anxiously. "How can I wait until to-morrow?"

But, even while she spoke, she espied the well-known form of Carl Henley, approaching the house.

Sibyl sprang to the bell, and rang a peal, that presently brought Jenny.

"Jenny, run down to the door, and tell the boy you will see passing to come up here immediately," she said, excitedly.

Jennie disappeared, and soon returned with Master Carl looking considerably amazed, not to say frightened, at this unexpected summons.

"Carl, what time do you return to the island?" asked Sibyl.

"Right off--soon's ever I get some tea, and sugar, and coffee, and starch, and things for Aunt Tom."

"Will you take me over when you are going, Carl?"

"Yes'm, if you'll not be long getting ready; 'cause there's a storm a comin', an' no matter how hard I pull, it'll be dark afore we get there," said Carl.

"I will be ready in five minutes, and wait for you on the beach. That will do," said Sibyl, rising, to close the interview.

Carl hurried out to fulfill his commissions for Mrs. Tom, and Sibyl went to her room to dress, and take leave of Mrs. Brantwell.

"Self-willed--self-willed!" said the good old lady, sorrowfully, as she kissed her. "Well, good-by, my love. Remember, I half expect you back to-morrow."

"And I shall certainly try not to disappoint you," said Sibyl, as she quitted the room.

She took her way to the beach, where she was soon joined by Carl, who, muttering an inarticulate something about having a "stunner of a storm pretty soon," pushed off and took the oars, and under his practiced hands the boat was soon flying like a bird through the sparkling waves.