THE
QUEEN OF THE ISLE.
A Novel.
BY
MAY AGNES FLEMING.
AUTHOR OF
"GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE," "THE ACTRESS' DAUGHTER,"
"A WONDERFUL WOMAN," "LOST FOR A WOMAN,"
"SILENT AND TRUE," "ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY,"
"A TERRIBLE SECRET," "A MAD MARRIAGE,"
ETC., ETC.
NEW YORK:
COPYRIGHT, 1886.
_G. W. Dillingham, Publisher,_
SUCCESSOR TO G. W. CARLETON & Co.
LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO.
MDCCCLXXXVI.
CONTENTS.
Chapter
I. Campbell's Isle
II. The Magic Mirror
III. The Maniac's Curse
IV. The Haunted Room
V. The Midnight cry
VI. "Off with the Old Love, and on with the New."
VII. The Heart's Struggle
VIII. The Triumph of Passion
IX. The Vision of the Isle
X. One of Fortune's Smiles
XI. The Storm--The Wreck
XII. Sibyl's Return to the Isle
XIII. The Meeting
XIV. Jealousy
XV. Self-Torture
XVI. Falsehood and Deceit
XVII. A Lull Before the Tempest
XVIII. The Fatal Note
XIX. That Day
XX. What Came Next
XXI. That Night
XXII. Next Morning
XXIII. Morning in the Island
XXIV. Christie
XXV. The Maniac's Story
XXVI. Remorse
XXVII. The Widowed Bridegroom
XXVIII. The Thunderbolt Falls
XXIX. The Devotion of Love
XXX. Sibyl's Doom
XXXI. The Bankrupt Heart
XXXII. Another Storm Within and Without
XXXIII. The Dead Alive
XXXIV. Explanations
XXXV. Meetings and Partings
THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE;
OR,
A HASTY WOOING.
CHAPTER I.
CAMPBELL'S ISLE.
"The island lies nine leagues away,
Along its solitary shore
Of craggy rock and sandy bay
No sound but ocean's roar,
Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home,
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam."--R. H. DANA.
About six miles from the mainland of M----, with its rock-bound coast
washed by the waters of the broad Atlantic, was an islet known in the
days of which I write as Campbell's Isle.
The island was small--about two miles in length and the same in
breadth, but fertile and luxurious. The dense primeval forest, which
as yet the destroying ax had scarcely touched, reared itself high and
dark in the northern part of the island. A deep, unbroken silence
ever reigned here, save when some gay party from the opposite coast
visited the island to fish or shoot partridges. Sometimes during the
summer, pleasure parties were held here, but in the winter all was
silent and dreary on the lonely, isolated little spot.
This island had been, from time immemorial, in the possession of a
family named Campbell, handed down from father to son. The people of
the surrounding country had learned to look upon them as the rightful
lords of the soil, "to the manner born." The means by which it had
first come into their possession were seldom thought of, or if
thought of, only added to their reputation as a bold and daring race.
The legend ran, that long before Calvert came over, a certain Sir Guy
Campbell, a celebrated freebooter and scion of the noble Scottish
clan of that name, who for some reckless crime had been outlawed and
banished, and in revenge had hoisted the black flag and become a
rover on the high seas, had, in his wanderings, discovered this
solitary island, which he made the place of his rendezvous. Here,
with his band of dare-devils--all outlaws like himself--he held many
a jolly carousal that made the old woods ring.
In one of his adventures he had taken captive a young Spanish girl,
whose wondrous beauty at once conquered a heart all unused to the
tender passion. He bore off his prize in triumph, and without asking
her consent, made her his wife at the first port he touched. Soon,
however, tiring of her company on shipboard, he brought her to his
island home, and their left her to occupy his castle, while he sailed
merrily away. One year afterward, Sir Guy the Fearless, as he was
called, was conquered by an English sloop-of-war; and, true to his
daring character, he blew up the vessel, and, together with his crew
and captors, perished in the explosion.
His son and successor, Gasper, born on the isle, grew up tall, bold,
and handsome, with all his father's daring and undaunted courage, and
his mother's beauty, and torrid passionate nature. He, in the course
of time, took to himself a wife of the daughters of the mainland;
and, after a short, stormy life, passed away in his turn to render an
account of his works, leaving to his eldest son, Hugh, the bold
spirit of his forefathers, the possession of Campbell's Isle, and the
family mansion known as Campbell's Lodge.
And so, from one generation to another, the Campbells ruled as lords
of the isle, and became, in after years, as noted for their poverty
as their pride. A reckless, improvident race they were, caring only
for to-day, and letting to-morrow care for itself; quick and fierce
to resent injury or insult, and implacable as death or doom in their
hate. Woe to the man who would dare point in scorn at one of their
name! Like a sleuth-hound they would dog his steps night and day,
and rest not until their vengeance was sated.
Fierce alike in love and hatred, the Campbells of the Isle were known
and dreaded for miles around. From sire to son the fiery blood of
Sir Guy the Fearless passed unadulterated, and throbbed in the veins
of Mark Campbell, the late master of the lodge, in a darker, fiercer
stream than in any that had gone before. A heavy-browed,
stern-hearted man he was, of whose dark deeds wild rumors went
whispering about, for no one dared breathe them aloud, lest they
should reach his vindictive ears, and rouse the slumbering tiger in
his breast. At his death, which took place some two or three years
previous to the opening of our story, his son Guy, a true descendant
of his illustrious namesake, became the lord and master of the isle,
and the last of the Campbells.
Young Guy showed no disposition to pass his days in the spot where he
was born. After the death of his father, Guy resolved to visit
foreign lands, and leave Campbell's Lodge to the care of an old black
servant, Aunt Moll, and her son Lem, both of whom had passed their
lives in the service of the family, and considered that in some sort
the honor of the house lay in their hands.
Vague rumors were current that the old house was haunted. Fishermen
out, casting their nets, avowed that at midnight, blue, unearthly
lights flashed from the upper chambers--where it was known Aunt Moll
never went--and wild, piercing shrieks, that chilled the blood with
horror, echoed on the still night air. The superstitious whispered
that Black Mark had been sent back by his master, the Evil One, to
atone for his wicked deeds done in the flesh, and that his restless
spirit would ever haunt the old lodge--the scene, it was believed, of
many an appalling crime. Be that as it may, the old house was
deserted, save by Aunt Moll and her hopeful son; and young Guy,
taking with him his only sister, spent his time in cruising about in
a schooner he owned, and--it was said, among the rest of the
rumors--in _cheating the revenue_.
Besides the lodge, or Campbell's Castle, as it was sometimes called,
the island contained but one other habitation, occupied by a widow, a
distant connection of the Campbells, who, after the death of her
husband, had come here to reside. The cottage was situated on the
summit of a gentle elevation that commanded an extensive view of the
island; for Mrs. Tomlinson--or Mrs. Tom, as she was always
called--liked a wide prospect.
The most frugal, the most industrious of housewives was Mrs. Tom. No
crime in her eyes equaled that of thriftlessness, and all sins could
be pardoned but that of laziness. Unfortunately for her peace of
mind, she was afflicted with an orphan nephew, the laziest of
mortals, whose shortcomings kept the bustling old lady in a fever
from morning till night. A wild young sister of Mrs. Tom's had run
away with a Dutch fiddler, and dying a few years after, was soon
followed to the grave by her husband, who drank more than was good
for him one night, and was found dead in the morning. Master Carl
Henley was accordingly adopted by his living relative and, as that
good lady declared, had been "the death of her" ever since.
A young girl of sixteen, known only as "Christie," was the only other
member of Mrs. Tom's family. Who this girl was, where she had come
from, and what was her family name, was a mystery: and Mrs. Tom, when
questioned on the subject, only shut her lips and shook her head
mysteriously, and spoke never a word. Although she called the old
lady aunt, it was generally believed that she was no relation; but as
Christie was a favorite with all who visited the island, the mystery
concerning her, though it piqued the curiosity of the curious, made
them like her none the less. A big Newfoundland dog and a
disagreeable chattering parrot completed the widow's household.
Mrs. Tom's business was flourishing. She made a regular visit each
week to the mainland, where she disposed of fish, nuts, and berries,
in which the island abounded, and brought back groceries and such
things as she needed. Besides that, she kept a sort of tavern and
place of refreshment for the sailors and fishermen, who sometimes
stopped for a day or two on the island; and for many a mile, both by
land and sea, was known the fame of Mrs. Tom.
Such was Campbell's Isle, and such were its owners and occupants.
For many years now it had been quiet and stagnant enough, until the
development of sundry startling events that for long afterward were
remembered in the country around and electrified for a time the whole
community.