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.