JEALOUSY.
----"Trifles, light as air,
Are to the jealous confirmation strong
As proofs of holy writ.--OTHELLO.
The next morning, Sibyl made her appearance in the sitting-room,
pale, wan, and haggard, as though she had spent a sleepless night.
But she appeared calm. Whatever course she had determined to pursue,
seemed fully settled, and now she was calm; but it was like the
calmness of a sleeping volcano, from which fire and flame, hurling
destruction on all, might at any moment burst forth.
Answering gravely all Aunt Moll's anxious inquiries after her health,
she seated herself at the breakfast-table, but touched nothing, save
a cup of hot coffee. And, after this slight refreshment, she put on
her hat and mantle and descended to the beach, where Lem, with the
boat, was already awaiting her coming.
Seating herself, she wrapped her mantle closely around her, and
fixing her eyes steadily on the dancing waves, the journey was
performed in stern silence. Two hours brought them to N----, and,
leaving her there, Lem set out for Westport to meet Drummond.
Arrived there, he found that young gentleman, accompanied by Captain
Campbell and a florid, bald-headed, old man, who proved to be the
surgeon.
On their way, Willard explained to them how the wounded man and his
wife had been saved from the wreck. And when they reached the
island, Captain Campbell, unconscious that his sister was gone,
hastened to the lodge, while Willard accompanied the surgeon to the
cottage of Mrs. Tom.
As they entered, Christie, who in spite of her hidden grief, was
busily employed as usual, looked hastily up, and turned, if possible,
a shade paler than before.
Mrs. Courtney sat listlessly turning over the leaves of a novel, with
a bored look on her pretty face; while opposite her, supported by
pillows, on Mrs. Tom's wooden sofa, lay her wounded husband, whose
eyes never for a moment, wandered from her face.
He was a man of thirty, at least, and would have been handsome but
for his ghastly pallor and a certain sour, querulous, suspicious
expression his face were. His complexion, naturally dark, had faded
to a sickly yellow, looking almost white in contrast with his black
hair, and thick, black whiskers and mustache. But it was the
expression of his face that was particularly unprepossessing--in the
thin, compressed lips, and watchful, cunning eyes you could read
suspicion, distrust, and doubt. Two things would have struck you
instantly, had you seen him sitting there--one, was his passionate
love for his wife; the other, a slumbering fire of jealousy, that the
faintest breath might have fanned into a never-dying flame.
They formed a striking contrast as they sat there--she so pretty,
careless, saucy, and indifferent; he so haggard with illness, and
with that watchful, distrustful look on his face. And yet, it had
been a love-match; he loved her to idolatry, and she, rejecting
perhaps worthier suitors, at the age of sixteen had run away from
school and eloped with Edgar Courtney. Willard Drummond had been
among the rejected ones. Before the honey-moon was over, the wild
girl had found she had married a jealous, exacting tyrant, who hated
every man on whom she smiled, and would have kept her locked up,
where no eye but his own could ever rest upon her, had he dared.
At first little Laura submitted to his caprices, because she loved
him, or thought she did; but as he grew more and more exacting, this
love died wholly away, and the little bride awoke one morning in
dismay to find she had made a life-long mistake. Still, she was too
good and generous to strive to lay the blame on him for taking
advantage of her youth and romantic impulse to fly with him, and
would have laughed and danced on as merrily as ever with him through
life, without letting him know it, had not his own conduct brought on
the denouement.
He continued to be tyrannical. Laura naturally proud and
high-spirited, grew at length very tired of his absurd fancies and
wishes, and vowed she would no longer be a "meek, submissive wife."
But, though inwardly despising him herself, she would allow no one
else to speak slightingly of him, as her first interview with Willard
Drummond proved. And all the previous night she had hovered over his
bedside, anticipating his every want with the most tender and
vigilant care; and it was only when, the next morning, he found
himself able to get up, that she had resumed her accustomed air of
careless indifference to himself and his wishes. Had he been more
generous and less suspicious--had he had faith in his young wife, she
would have loved him and been his alone; but had he really wished to
make her hate him, he could not have taken a surer plan to bring such
a result than the one he did.
All this long digression is necessary, that too much blame may not be
thrown upon the shoulders of the poor little girl-bride for her
reckless conduct and the awful catastrophe that followed.
When Willard and the doctor entered, Christie, who had anxiously
waited for this opportunity, seeing Mrs. Tom busily engaged, touched
her husband on the arm, and, whispering "Follow me," left the house.
He unhesitatingly obeyed, and overtook her near the end of the
garden, where, pale and troubled, she stood, leaning against a tree.
"Weil, Christie, what is it?" he asked, in surprise.
"Willard," she said, lifting her reproachful eyes to his face, "Sibyl
Campbell was here last night!"
"Well!" he said, starting and coloring deeply.
"Oh, Willard! she told me all--how you had deceived her, and deceived
me! Oh, Willard! how could you do so?"
"Deceived her?--deceived you? I do not understand, Christie," he
said, coldly.
"Oh, Willard! you do! You promised to love only her--to marry her;
yet you deceived her, and married me!"
"Well, a moment ago, you said I deceived you likewise. And how, I
pray you, madam? Go on," he said, with a sneer.
"You made me your wife while pledged to another!"
"Which, doubtless, causes you a great deal of sorrow." he said, in a
tone of slight pique; for though his passion for Christie was dying
away, he could not endure the thought, as yet, of her forgetting him.
"Oh, Willard! you know being your wife is the greatest happiness on
earth for me; but when I saw her, last night, so wild, passionate,
and despairing, I felt as if I could have died for very shame to
think I had been the cause of her misery!"
"Then she did seem despairing!" he said, while his face flushed.
"Oh, yes! almost crazed, mad, frenzied. Her eyes seemed killing me!"
"Who could have told her?--not you?" he exclaimed, suddenly.
"Oh, no--no! I do not know how she heard it; but she knew all."
"What! our marriage, and all?" he cried, starting up, and speaking in
a tone that made Christie start back.
"No; she did not know that. But----"
"You did not dare to tell her?" he said, almost threateningly.
"Oh! why will you speak to me in that tone, dearest Willard? I did
not mean to reproach you."
"It is very like it, however," he said bitterly.
"But may I not tell her, Willard? She wanted me to give you up; and
I thought she would have killed me because I refused. I fear she may
come again; and, indeed, such another interview would kill me! If
she knew all, she would desist. Oh, Willard, dearest! will you not
tell her--or may I not tell her?"
"Not for the world--not for ten thousand worlds! Would you ruin me,
Christie?" he exclaimed, impetuously.
"Ruin you, Willard?" she said, faintly.
"My worldly prospects, I mean. My--oh, the thing is impossible!" he
said vehemently. "I will not hear of it for a moment."
"But you promised," she began, in a choking voice.
"And will keep that promise when the proper time comes. At present
it is impossible--utterly impossible, I tell you. You must have
faith in me, and wait, Christie."
Faith! Was he worthy of it? The thought arose in the mind of
Christie, to be instantly banished, as she heroically kept back her
rising tears and strove to say, in a calm voice:
"Wait! But for how long? Willard, this secrecy is dreadful! this
deception weighs on my heart like lead!"
"I do not know; I cannot tell. How often have I said, when the
_proper time_ comes, when I may safely avow it, all shall be
revealed. Christie, you are selfish--you have no consideration for
any one but yourself. If I loved you better than Miss Campbell, you
should be the last one to reproach me with it. Take care that many
such scenes as this do not banish that love altogether."
His deeply offended tone sent the coldness of death to the very heart
of Christie. She had not meant to anger him; and now he was deeply
displeased. He had never looked nor spoken to her so before. And,
totally overcome, she covered her face with her hands and wept aloud.
He was not proof against her tears. All the old tenderness returned
at the sight, and, going over, he removed her hands, saying, gently:
"My dearest love, forgive me, I was vexed, surprised, grieved, and in
the wrong. Look up, little wife. Lift those blue eyes and say you
forgive me!"
Before she could reply a footstep was heard approaching, and she had
only time to bestow on him one look of love and pardon, and dart
away, ere Captain Campbell came in view.
"Well, Drummond, what says the doctor about your patient?" he
demanded, as he came up.
"I have not seen him since he went in. But here he comes, to answer
for himself."
At this moment the doctor made his appearance, and Willard propounded
the inquiry.
"Oh, it's nothing serious, sir! He'll be better in a day or two,"
replied the doctor. "Meantime, how am I to get home?"
"My servant is down on the shore, waiting to take you over," said
Captain Campbell.
"I'll attend you down, doctor," said Willard, taking the old
gentleman's arm.
"And as I reign king, undisputed, here, I suppose it will be only
polite attention to visit my wounded subject," said Captain Campbell,
approaching the cottage.
On entering, he was presented by Mrs. Tom to her guests.
Equally surprised and pleased to find so pretty and piquant a little
lady in Mrs. Courtney, the young captain took a seat beside her, and
entered, forthwith, into conversation. Mr. Courtney scowled at the
handsome young captain from under his black eyebrows, but said
nothing.
And Mrs. Courtney, mutually delighted by the agreeable and
gentlemanly newcomer, flung aside her novel, forgot her _ennui_, and
laughed and chatted with a volubility that amazed and delighted her
companion, who immediately entered into a war of wit, words, and
repartee, during which the time sped rapidly away.
Mrs. Tom was the only auditor, however, who seemed in the least to
enjoy their smart sayings, and sharp, witty retorts; for Carl, under
the unfailing eye of his aunt, was groaning in spirit, as he sat
plucking fowls, with a haste and energy that brought great drops of
perspiration to his brow, hearing, every time he ventured to look up,
a shrill "You, Carl!" that instantly set him to work again with
renewed vigor. Christie, pale, silent, and thoughtful, bent over her
sewing, near the window; and Mr. Courtney's scowl grew every moment
darker and darker.
At last, after two delightful hours, Captain Campbell arose,
reluctantly, to go, saying:
"My sister, will, doubtless, be here in a day or two, Mrs. Courtney,
and then you must become our guest. Meantime, I shall be delighted
to show you my island home, and assist, in every way I can, to make
the time of your stay pass as pleasantly as possible."
Mr. Courtney's midnight brows grew black as a thunder-cloud, and
blacker, if possible, as his wife gayly replied:
"Thank you, sir. Nothing could give me more pleasure; so to-morrow,
I shall, with your permission, take an inventory of your enchanting
isle."
"Shall you, madam?" muttered her husband, between his teeth. "We
shall see about that!"
All the rest of the evening Mr. Courtney was just as silent, sulky,
and sour as he knew how to be, which is saying a good deal. And that
night, after they had retired to the inner room which Mrs. Tom had
vacated to their use, he took her to task in the following manner:
"Pray, madam, may I ask what business you had, giving that fellow any
such promise as you did?"
Now Mrs. Courtney had seen her husband's groundless jealousy all the
evening, and had been excessively annoyed thereby, fearing Captain
Campbell might observe it, too, and wonder at it. Therefore, feeling
justly indignant, she coolly replied:
"Because, sir, it was my good pleasure to do so."
"Indeed!" and the dark brow foreboded a storm, "indeed, Mrs.
Courtney! And is it your intention to go roaming with this fellow,
alone, through the island to-morrow?"
"Most assuredly, Mr. Courtney. How astonishingly clever you are at
guessing!"
"Madam, you shall not go."
"Sir, I shall go!" said the lady, imitating his tone exactly.
"Have you no respect for yourself, madam--none for me, your husband?"
"Not the least, sir."
"It will be at your peril if you go."
"No, it won't--it'll be at my pleasure."
"Silence, madam!" he thundered, grinding his teeth with rage. "Do
not dare to be impertinent, or you will repent it."
"Mr. Courtney, allow me to observe, the inmates of this house are
trying to sleep. How they will succeed, if you go on in that manner,
is a question easily answered," said Mrs. Courtney, sitting down,
with a most provoking coolness, and beginning to unbutton her boots.
"Mrs. Courtney, I command you not to go with this man, to-morrow."
"Mr. Courtney, you may command till you are black in the face; but
I've promised, and I'll go!" said his rebellious spouse.
He half sprang up from the bed in which he was lying, his eyes fairly
scintillating with rage.
"Would you dare disgrace me in this way?" he said, in a voice hoarse
with passion.
"Disgrace you? Disgrace a fiddlestick! Are you losing all the
little sense you ever had, Mr. Courtney?" said his wife, now really
indignant.
"Are you really smitten with--do you love this man?" he asked, in a
hoarse, fierce whisper, keeping his gleaming, black eyes still fixed
on her face.
For a moment a flash of intense anger shot from the eyes of Mrs.
Courtney; then, as if the absurdity of the question overcame every
other feeling, she threw herself back in her chair, and broke out in
a hearty peal of laughter.
The action might have dispelled his absurd doubts; but, as nothing
can convince jealous souls, he even looked upon this, as another
proof of her guilt, and, raising himself up in his bed, he grasped
her arm, while again he hissed:
"Do you love him?"
"Mr. Courtney, don't bother me!" said his polite spouse, indignantly
shaking off his hand; "and don't make a greater simpleton of yourself
than nature made you. Love him indeed! I've had enough of love for
one while, I can tell you. I found it dose enough the last time I
was fool enough to try it, and now that I've got nicely over it,
nobody'll catch me at it again."
This was a most unfortunate speech, for Courtney's fear, day and
night, was, lest his wife should cease to love him. He closed his
teeth with a snap, and fell back on his pillow with a sepulchral moan.
There was a pause, during which Mrs. Courtney leisurely combed out
her curls, and Mr. Courtney lay with knit brows, and deep, labored
breathing. At length, he turned over, and said huskily:
"Laura!"
"Well?" said Laura, going on with her combing and brushing.
"You won't go out to-morrow?"
"Won't I? That's all you know about it, then."
"It's my wish you should stay."
"And it's my wish to go."
"Then you _will_ go?"
"Most decidedly. And now, Mr. Courtney, hold your tongue, for I'm
going to sleep."
He clenched his teeth with impotent rage, and his jealous soul shone
forth hideously from his glittering eyes. And, angry and indignant,
Mrs. Courtney went to sleep, muttering:
"I vow to Cupid, you shall have some cause for jealousy, my wise lord
and master. Pity to have you jealous for nothing; so, handsome
Captain Campbell, look out, for I mean to flirt like fury!"