A LULL BEFORE THE TEMPEST.
"We hold our greyhound in our hand,
Our falcon on our glove;
But where shall we find leash or band
For dame that loves to rove?"--SCOTT.
"Now, my dear Mrs. Courtney, you really must not think of going back
to the island, any more. Sibyl is to remain with me, for a week or
two longer, and you, positively, must stay, for, let me tell you, I
have taken a desperate fancy to you, during the last few hours.
Then, too, Sibyl, poor child! has seemed ill and out of spirits for
the past few days---and the presence of your lively little ladyship
will tend to restore her to cheerfulness, again. So, Mrs. Courtney,
you will just consider it settled; and, yourself, and husband must
remain my guests for the present."
The company, were already dispersing, and Mrs. Courtney, on going to
take leave of her hostess, had listened to the above harangue.
"But, Mr. Courtney," she began, rather hesitatingly,
"He will not object, my dear!" broke in Mrs. Brantwell, who was
comfortably reposing in a large arm-chair. "He is looking ill, yet,
and I don't believe his wound has been half attended to. Just go and
tell him, that I say he must stay. I would go myself, only there is
a crowd here, waiting to take their leave, and make their adieus.
Mrs. Courtney, it's not possible--you do not hesitate. What earthly
attraction can there be for you, in that dreary, little isle?"
"Oh, Mrs. Brantwell! it's not that; indeed, I shall be delighted to
accept your kind offer; but, Mr. Courtney is sometimes so queer, and
has such strange notions about intruding on people, that I do not
know----"
"Intrude! Nonsense!" interrupted Mrs. Brantwell. "I'm sure there's
nobody in this world, as fond of society as I am. I'd always have
the house full of young people if I could. There now, run away, like
a good, little woman and tell your husband that I positively will not
hear of his going. Come, be off; here is Mr. Stafford, waiting to
bid me good-by, and, I never care to keep a young gentleman
waiting--especially such a good-looking one; though, I don't know
what Mr. Brantwell would say about that!"
And Mrs. Brantwell gave Laura a facetious poke in the ribs, and went
off into one of her mellow laughs.
Inwardly delighted at Mrs. Brantwell's invitation, which gave promise
of much pleasure, Laura went in search of her husband, fully
determined to accept it, whether that unreasonable individual liked
it or not.
She found him waiting for her, in the ante-room, all ready for
starting.
"What has delayed you so long?" he asked, sharply. "I have been
waiting here this half hour. I have sent one of the servants to hire
a cab to take us over to Westport--where for the present we can
engage lodgings, instead of returning to Campbell's Isle--a place I
never want to see again. Come, make haste and get ready."
"There's no occasion, for I'm not going to leave."
"Not going to leave? What do you mean, madam?" he asked, still more
sharply.
"What I say. Are you really crazy enough, Mr. Courtney, to think I
would undertake a two-hours' ride over to Westport, after being up
all night? Catch me at it! I have too much regard for my good looks
to undertake any such journey."
"Ah! you wish to return to the island?" he said, setting his teeth
hard. "Captain Campbell, of course, will accompany you?"
"How provoking! Every word I say is converted into food for
jealousy. No, I don't want to go back to the island. I'm going to
spend a week here with Mrs. Brantwell."
"You shall not stay here. You shall come with me to Westport."
"Shall I, indeed? They'll have sharp eyes that will see me in
Westport for another week, at least. Come, Edgar, have sense, and
stay here for a few days."
"Will Captain Campbell be here?"
"Captain Campbell again. Oh, grant me patience! How do I know
whether he will be here or not? I'm sure I hope he may, if it's only
to drive you crazy; for, of all the absurd, jealous old tyrants that
ever lived you're the worst. I declare, Mr. Courtney, you'd provoke
a saint; and I do wish--St. Laura forgive me--that you were safely in
heaven. There, now!"
"Take care, madam!" he said, hoarsely; "your good wishes are
premature. Old tyrant as I am, I may live long enough to make you
repent this language."
"Take care of what? I'm not afraid of you, Edgar Courtney!" she
said, with flashing eyes. "Don't threaten, or you may drive me to
say things I should be sorry for afterward."
"Once for all, will you come with me to Westport?"
"Once for all, no!"
"Madam, I command you!"
"Command away, then; I sha'n't budge a step."
"Mrs. Courtney, do you dare to brave my authority?"
"Your authority! It isn't the first time I have braved it."
"Take care that it is not the last!" he hissed, with gleaming eyes.
"Ugh! Don't look at me that way," said Laura, shuddering
involuntarily at his unearthly look and tone. "I declare, if you're
not enough to scare a person into the fever and ague! What a scowl!
Edgar Courtney, you're worse than Nero, Heliogabalus, Mohammed, and
all the other nasty old fellows, melted into one. Now I've made up
my mind to stay here with Mrs. Brantwell, whether you like it or not;
and you may do as you please, for all I care. Allow me to wish you
good-night, and a pleasant journey to Westport."
And turning abruptly around, the indignant little lady quitted the
room, leaving her spouse to his own not very pleasant reflections.
* * * * *
The company, by this time, had nearly all departed. Drummond, hat in
hand, stood near the window, talking in low tones to Sibyl, whose
face was now bright, radiant, unclouded.
Mr. and Mrs. Brantwell were still holding a parting conversation with
some of their friends, among whom, stood young Stafford, watching Mr.
Drummond, with a ferocious glance.
Captain Campbell stood by himself, evidently waiting for his friend
to accompany him to the isle.
As Mrs. Courtney entered, he approached her, saying, with a smile:
"Well, Mrs. Courtney, are you not going to return with us to the
island?"
"No, I think not," said Laura. "I have accepted our kind hostess'
invitation, to remain with her a week."
"Weil, I have no doubt you will find it pleasanter than our lonesome
isle, though, we poor unfortunates, left behind will find it doubly
dreary, now, that it is deprived of your bright presence."
"Flatterer--flattery! I don't believe I'll ever be missed. You must
remember me to good Mrs. Tom, her pretty niece, Christie, and that
ill-treated youth, Mr. Carl Henley."
"Your humble servant hears but to obey. But, my dear Mrs. Courtney,
you must not desert us, altogether. Will you not visit the island
some day during the week?"
"Perhaps I may; indeed, it's very likely I shall. I want to see Mrs.
Tom, before I start for home; so, if I can prevail on Miss Campbell
to accompany me, your Island will be blessed with my 'bright
presence,' once more."
"A blessing, for which, we shall be duly grateful," said Captain
Campbell, gayly; "so, just name the day that I shall have the
happiness of coming for you, and I shall safely convey you, 'over the
sea in my fairy bark.'"
"Why, Captain Campbell, how distressingly poetical you are getting!"
said Laura, laughing. "Well, let's see. This is Tuesday, isn't it?
Then, I think I will go on Thursday--day after to-morrow."
"Very well, on that day, I shall have the happiness of coming for
you. Until then, adieu."
"Good-by, Captain Campbell," said Mrs. Courtney, holding out her hand.
As she spoke, a slight noise behind her, made her turn abruptly
round, and she almost shrieked aloud, as she beheld her
husband--white, ghastly, and haggard--standing like a galvanized
corpse, by her side. He had entered, unobserved, and approached them
in time to hear their last words--to hear them make an appointment.
What other proof of her guilt, did he require? His worst suspicions
were, of course, confirmed. Oh! terrible, was the look his face wore
at that moment, Without a word, he turned away, and walked to the
further end of the room.
Startled, shocked, and sick with undefined apprehension, Laura leaned
against the table, for support. Captain Campbell's eyes followed the
jealous husband, with a look, that said as plainly as words, "what
does all this mean?"
"You are ill, Mrs. Courtney," he said, noticing with alarm her sudden
faintness. "Allow me to ring for a glass of water."
"No, no! It is nothing," she said, passing her hand across her brow,
as if to dispel a mist. "Nothing whatever," she added, rising and
forcing a smile as she saw his anxious look. "Excuse me. Good
night."
She hastened away, and Captain Campbell, after a moment's wondering
pause, approached the spot where Willard and Sibyl stood, and
touching him on the shoulder, said, somewhat impatiently:
"Come, Drummond, it's time we were off, if we go at all. Even as it
is, it will be sunrise before we reach the island."
In spite of all her efforts a cloud fell on Sibyl's sunny brow at his
words. The demon of Doubt was not yet wholly exorcised. The island!
the name grated harshly on her ear, for Christie was there.
Willard Drummond saw it, and his resolution was taken. He felt it
would not do to return to the island just now.
"I regret having kept you waiting," he said, gravely; "but I do not
intend going to the island just yet."
A radiant glance from Sibyl's beautiful eyes repaid him for the
words. But Captain Campbell was amazed.
"Not return? Why, what's in you head, now, Drummond? Where are you
going?" he asked, in surprise.
"For the present, I shall stay here."
"Here, at Mr. Brantwell's?"
"No, in the village."
"Tired of Campbell's Isle already, eh? I knew how it would be.
Well, I suppose I'll have to submit to keep bachelor's hall alone for
a day or two, and then I shall return to Westport to see after my
bonny bark. As the Courtneys stay, likewise, I shall have to go
alone; so _au revoir_."
And Captain Campbell, after exchanging a word with his hostess, left
the house to return to Campbell Lodge.
The few remaining guests by this time, had gone; and Willard
Drummond, also, took his departure. And then Sibyl took her
night-lamp and retired to her room to dream of her new-found
happiness.
Laura Courtney sat alone on a sofa in a remote corner, her head on
her hand, her brows knit in painful thought. This fierce jealousy of
her husband's was growing insufferable; she felt she could not endure
it much longer. Every word, every look, every action was warped and
distorted by his jealous imagination into another proof of her guilt.
And she painfully felt that this absurd jealousy must soon be
apparent to every one--an almost unendurable thought; for, in spite
of all her levity and apparent indifference, the little girl-wife
possessed too much pride and self-respect to carelessly submit to
such a bitter humiliation.
"I wish I knew what to do," she thought. "If I submit to all his
whims and caprices, it will only make matters worse. Nothing can
remove this deep-rooted passion, and the yoke he will lay on my neck
will become unbearable. Oh, I was mad, crazed, ever to marry him.
Every one that knew him told me how it would be--that he was
tyrannical, jealous, exacting, and passionate, but I only laughed at
them, and deemed him perfection. How I could ever have loved him,
I'm sure I don't know, for he hasn't a single lovable quality in him.
However, it's too late to think of this now; I want to forget the
past altogether, if I can, and my folly with it. Good gracious! what
an awful look was on his face that time when I turned round.
Perhaps, after all, I had better not go to the island. The man's a
monomaniac on this point, and it won't do to drive him to
desperation."
She bent her forehead on her hand, and remained for a few moments
lost in troubled thought.
"No, I shall not go; but I will not give him the triumph of knowing
it. He shall not think I am afraid of him, and that he has humbled
me at last," she said, half aloud, as she raised her head proudly.
"I will avoid Captain Campbell, too, as much as possible, if I can do
so without attracting attention. Heigho! what it is to have a
jealous husband! I wonder where Edgar is? Perhaps he has gone to
Westport, and left me here!"
"Prithee, why so sad?" said the jovial voice of Mrs. Brantwell,
breaking in at this moment on her reverie.
"You are looking as doleful as if some near relation had just been
hung for sheep-stealing. Come, I can't allow any one in my house to
wear so doleful a face. Don't indulge in the blues, my dear, or you
need never expect to wax fat and portly, as I am. Come, let me see
you smile, now."
"Oh, Mrs. Brantwell! who could be sad in your sunshiny presence,"
said Laura, smiling as brightly as even the good old lady could wish;
"but, really, I wasn't out of spirits--only dreadfully sleepy." And
an immense yawn confirmed the truth of her words.
"No wonder; it's four o'clock, so you had better retire. Jenny will
show you to your room."
"Did you see--has Mr. Courtney--" began Laura, hesitatingly, as she
rose.
"Mr. Courtney went to bed a quarter of an hour ago, my dear. And
here's Jenny, now, with your lamp. Good-night, love!" And kissing
her, Mrs. Brantwell consigned her to the charge of a neat mulatto
girl, who appeared with a light at the door.
Laura followed her up stairs to the door of her apartment. And here
Jenny handed her the light, dropped a courtesy, and disappeared.
Mrs. Courtney opened the door and entered. It was a neat, pretty
little room, with white curtains on the windows and white dimity
hangings on the bed; a wan-hued carpet on the floor, and a cozy
arm-chair beside the window. Mr. Courtney sat on the bed, still
dressed in his evening costume--his arm resting on the snowy pillows
and his face bowed upon it. His dark elf-locks fell heavily over the
white pillows, as he lay as motionless as though death had stifled
forever his wildly Throbbing heart.
He looked up as his wife entered, and dashes back his long, dark
hair. Laura really felt for him--the wretched victim of his own
turbulent passions--but pity and sympathy she knew would be alike
misunderstood by him, if manifested; and even, perhaps, be adding
fuel to the flames already raging in his breast.
"Oh! you are here, are you?" she said, setting her lamp on the
toilet-stand, and throwing herself languidly in the arm-chair, "I
thought you had gone to Westport."
"And left you to flirt with your new lover. Ha! Ha! You thought
so, did you?"
What a goblin laugh it was. Laura shivered involuntarily, but she
would not abate one jot of her defiant sarcasm.
"Yes, I saw you playing the eavesdropper," she said, as she began
taking off her collar and bracelets; "it is just what I expected of
you. You did it so expertly, one would think you had been taking
lessons all your life, in listening at keyholes. Perhaps, you have
learned from some hotel-waiter, or lady's maid."
"By Heaven! I will strangle you!" he exclaimed, roused to madness by
her taunting tone. And he sprang to his feet, glaring upon her, as
though he would fulfill his threat.
"Come, Mr. Courtney, be calm, or I shall be under the painful
necessity of going down stairs, and inquiring where the nearest
lunatic asylum is located. Don't rave, now, or try to transfix me
with your flashing glances. I am not, in the slightest degree,
afraid of you, Mr. Courtney."
And Mrs. Courtney drew her little form up to its full height, and
looked with cool contempt, in his face.
"Madam! if you go to the island, I swear, by heaven, and all its
hosts, it will be the dearest night's work you have ever done."
"Hem! Why don't you swear by the other place; you are likely to know
more about it, some day, than you will ever know of heaven."
"Silence!" he shouted, in a fierce voice, "I repeat it; if you keep
this appointment with Captain Campbell, you shall repent it, in dust
and ashes!"
For a moment, he stood perfectly paralyzed, foaming at the mouth like
a wild beast. Even the audacious Mrs. Courtney, trembled before the
terrible pitch of passion, she had daringly excited. And with it,
came another feeling, apprehensions for her personal safety.
Springing to her feet, she darted past him, reached the door, and
said:
"Mr. Courtney, your disagreeable temper renders it necessary for me
to leave you to solitude, which is said to be excellent for cross
people. Hoping you will have recovered your usual good-temper,
before we meet again, allow me, to wish you good-night."
He darted toward her, but she was gone, slamming the door after her,
and was down the stairs in a twinkling. She knew he would not dare
to follow her; and, reaching the dark, deserted parlor, she threw
herself on a lounge, and burst into a passionate flood of tears. In
that moment, she fairly hated her husband.
But, when the household assembled next morning, little Mrs. Courtney
looked as bright, and smiling, and breezy as ever, and met her pale,
sour-visaged husband with her customary, careless unconcern. He,
too, was calm; but, it was a delusive lull in the storm. The
treacherous peace of the sleeping volcano--the menacing quiet of a
savage, seeking revenge--a calm, more to be dreaded, than his former,
fierce outburst of passion.