THE BANKRUPT HEART.
Oh, break, break, break! poor bankrupt, break at once,
To prison, soul! Ne'er hope for liberty!"--SHAKESPEARE.
"Every sense
Had been unstrung by pangs intense,
And each frail fiber of her brain
As bow-strings when released by rain,
The erring arrows launch aside--
Sent forth her thoughts all wild and wide."--BYRON.
There was a long pause. Then Mrs. Brantwell raised her head, and
asked.
"When do you return to Westport?"
"I cannot go before to-morrow; my horse is unfit for the journey."
"Then I will accompany you."
"But my dear madam----"
"Mr. Stafford, not a word. I will go!"
She spoke in a tone there was no disobeying; so Stafford was forced
to assent; and soon after Mrs. Brantwell left the room and sought her
own apartment. The light breakfast next morning was untouched by
either of them; and as soon as it was over, Mrs. Brantwell hastily
threw on her bonnet and shawl, and entered the carriage that stood
waiting to convey her to Westport.
Some time before evening they reached the town--now so crowded with
strangers that it would have been impossible to have secured
lodgings, had not Captain Campbell given up his rooms to the use of
Mrs. Brantwell while she should remain.
Too utterly exhausted in her present weak state to visit the prison
that night, Mrs. Brantwell immediately retired to her room, and
desired the waiter to send Captain Campbell to her.
She scarcely recognized him, so altered had he become in those few
days; the old hopeful look was gone, and in its place the darkest,
gloomiest despair.
The meeting was a very sad and very silent one. Mrs. Brantwell
pressed the hand he extended with deepest pity and warmest sympathy,
but said nothing. Her silence was more eloquent than words. At
last--
"When did you see Sibyl?" she asked.
"Not since the day of the trial," he answered, moodily.
"No!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "How is that?"
"She would not see me; she would not see any one. I attended her to
the cell, and there she bade me go--she would be alone; she insisted
on it; she would not even see Mr. Brantwell. I left her, and went
the next day, and the next, and the next, but still the same answer
was returned; she would see no one. From the moment she left the
court-house she had thrown herself upon her bed, and she would not
touch the food they offered her; she would not speak one word, only
repeating that peremptory demand to be alone."
"My poor, poor Sibyl! And Mr. Drummond, where is he?"
"I know not. When he heard the sentence of the court, he sprang on
his horse and dashed away like a madman. May Heaven's heaviest
vengeance light on him and that black-hearted traitor, Courtney! for
between them they have brought her to this!" And Captain Campbell's
face grew absolutely livid with the storm of passion that swept
across it.
"My dearest boy, hush! We must forgive our enemies, you know, if we
expect to be forgiven.
"Forgive them! Yes! if I ever meet them, I'll send them to another
world, with a bullet through their brains, in search of forgiveness!"
he fiercely replied.
"Oh, Guy! do not say such dreadful things! You do not mean it, I
know; but it is wrong nevertheless."
He only replied with a smile--but such a smile! Mrs. Brantwell
turned away with a shudder.
"To-morrow I will visit the prison. I feel sure Sibyl will receive
me."
"I hope so; but there is no telling. You can make the effort
nevertheless."
"You will accompany me?"
"Oh, certainly. And as you look fatigued now, I will leave you to
seek the necessary repose. Good-night."
He was gone with the same dark, rigid look on his face, that made
Mrs. Brantwell's heart ache; and she sought her couch with a mind
deeply disturbed by the thought of to-morrow's interview.
Next day, immediately after her slender breakfast, Captain Campbell
made his appearance in her room. As the prison was but a short
distance from the hotel, they were to walk; and drawing her arm
within his own, Captain Campbell set out.
The streets were already crowded with people, drawn hither by the
news of the great trial, and determined to wait now to see the
execution.
Groups were assembled on every corner, discussing in low tones the
expected event, and the murder. Every eye was bent on Captain
Campbell as he passed; some knowing him to be the brother of the
condemned; others supposing him to be her false lover, and the
elderly lady on his arm, her mother. These insolent stares were met
by such fixed, fierce glances on the part of the young man, that
every eye fell, and every one shrank back to let him pass.
They reached the prison, and were admitted by the warden, who glanced
at Captain Campbell in the deepest distress.
"We wish to be admitted to my sister's cell, Mr. Dent," said Captain
Campbell.
"Yes, sir; but if you please, sir----"
"There--there! I know what you would say," impatiently interrupted
the young man. "But my sister will receive this lady. Lead on, sir."
With a deep sigh of compassion, the old man obeyed; and they followed
him through a long, gloomy hall, until they reached a door, before
which the warden paused.
Fumbling among a large bunch of keys, he produced one which unlocked
the door; and stepping back, he flung the door open and signed to
them to pass in.
They did so, and paused on the threshold. For there before them was
a sight that struck them dumb; that sent the life-blood curdling in
horror to their hearts.
Crouching in a corner, and glaring upon them with her wild, vacant
black eyes; every trace of color faded from her lips, leaving even
the beautiful lips blue and livid; her long hair streaming wildly
down her back; her hands held out before her, as if to keep them off,
she sat. Well might they stare, while the very life-blood froze in
their hearts.
Sibyl Campbell, the bride of a moment--alone in her prison-cell--had
gone _mad_!