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Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, ns many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est fllmd A partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. Tata o >elure. D 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 THE QUEEI Of THE ISLE BY Mrs. may AGNES FLEMING AUTHOR OK "im.- iiAVLr v;r,.n,.„M ., MIDNIGHT OUEKV " "tui^ uf,... ^ VUi.LN, rilL KIVAL liROTHERS," ETC. NEW YORK THK FEDERAL BOOK COMPANY PUBLISHERS rl I CONTENTS. 1 1 v i PACE I. Campbell's Isle 5 II. Tlie 31ugic Minor 9 III. The Maniac's Curse oj IV. The Haunted Room 32 V. The Midnight Cry 39 VI. The Old Love and tlio New 4(j VII. The Ilcarfs Struggle 53 VIII. The Triumph of Passion cO IX. The Vision of tlio Isle 69 X. One of Fortune's Smiles ;5 Xi, The Storm- the Wreck .- 93 XII. Sybil's Return to thf : Isle 90 XIII. The Meeting oq XIV. Jealousy -. qc XV. Self-Torture II3 XVI. Falsehood and Deceit II9 XVII. A Lull Before the Tempest 127 XVIIL The Tempest I35 XIX. ThatDay ^^4 XX. What Came Next ]51 XXI. That Night..... l,r^7 XXII. Next Morning 16^ XXIII. Morning in the Island I73 ""3" l\ i 4 CONTENTS. XXIV. Christie ^^°' 185 XXV. The Maniac's Story. . . •^ 199 XXVI. Remorse. . . . 213 XXVII. Tlie Widowed Bridegroom ooo XXVIII. The Thunderbolt Falls o"" XXIX. The Devotion of Love o^p XXX. Sybil's Doom 1, 345 XXXI. The Bankrupt Heart or^ XXXII. Another Storm without and within 257 XXXIII. The Dead 4.1ive „1, 265 XXXIV. Explanations XXXV. Meetings and Partings 288 I OB 35 13 50 tG L5 7 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. CHAPTER I. Campbell's isle. About six miles from the mainland of M- — , with its rock-bound coast waslied by the waters of the broad At- lantic, was an islet, known in the days of which I write as Campbell's Isle. This island was small — about two miles in length and the same in breadth, but fertile and luxurious. Tlie dense primeval forest, which as yet the destroying axe had scarcely touched, reared its self high and dark in tlio northern part of the island. A deep unbroken silence ever reigned here, save wlien some gay party from the op- posite coast visited the island to fish or shoot partridges. Sometimes, during tlie summer, pleasure parties were held here, but in the winter all was silent and dreary on this lonely 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 coun- try had learned to look upon them as the rightful lords of the soil, " to the manor born." Tlie means by wliich it had first come into their possession were seldom thought of, or if thought of. only added to their reputation as: a bold, daring race. The legend ran tliat, long before Cal- vert came over, a certain Sir Guy Campbell, a celel)fatcd freebooter and scion of tlie noble Scottish clan of tliat name, who for some reckless crime had been outlawed and banished, and in revenge had hoisted the black flag and become a rover on tlie 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 li 6 THE QUEEX OF THE ISLE. outlaws liko liimself — lie held nuuiy a jolly carousal that made the old woods riiig. In one of his adventures ho liad taken captive a young Spanish girl, whose wondrous beauty at once conquered a iieart all unused to the teiuler passion, lie l)ore ofT his prize in triumph and, without asking her consent, made her his wife at tiie first port he touched. Soon, however, tiring of her company on ship- board, ho brought her to his island liome, and there left her to occupy liis 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 charac^ter, he blew up his vessel and, together with his crew and captors, perished in the explosion. His son and successor, (lasper, born on the isle, grew up tall, bold and handsome, witli all his mother's beauty and torrid, passionate nature. lie, 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 ren- der an account of his works, leaving to his eldest son, Hugh, the bold spirit of his forefathers, the possession of CampbelTs Isle, and the family mansion known as Camp- bell'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, Ciiring 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 to point in scoi'ii 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. I^^rom sire to son the liery blood of Sir Guy the Fearless passed unadulterated, and throbbed in the veins of ]\Iark Campbell, thelato master of the Lo(''ge, in a darker, fiercer stream than in any that had gone before. A heavy- browed, stern-hearted man he was, of wliose dark deeds wild rumors went whispering about, for no one dared breathe them aloud, lest they should reach his vindictive cars, and rouse the slumbering tiger in his breast. At liis death, which took place two or three years previous to the opening of our story, his son Guy, a true descendant t CAMPBELL'S ISLK. of liis illiistrions namosuko, became tlio lord and master of tlio isle, and tlie hist of tlie Oampbellrf. Vuung (iiiy sliowed no dis])osiU()n to pass lii3 days in the spot wiierc lie was b*»rn. After tlie death of his fatlier, (Jiiy resolved to visit foreign lands, and h'ave (':mipbi'irs Lod<;e in care of an old black servant. Aunt Moll, and lier son Lein, both of whom had ]);issi'd their lives in tho service of the family, and eonsideri'd that in some sort tho honor of the house lay in their hands. \'M<,Mie riimorg were current that the ohl house was haunted. Fishermen out, castiiiix their nets, avowed that at midnitjlit, blue, un- earthly liirlits ilashed from the Ujiper ehambei's — where it was known Aunt Moll never went — ami wild, ])iercing shrieks, that chilled the blood with horror, echoed on tliO still night air. The supcM-stitious whispered that I)la(;k ]\Iark hiid been sent back by his master, the Evil One, to atone for his wicked deeds done in the llesh, and tlnit his restless spirit would forever haunt the old Lod<;{i, the scene, it was believed, of many an appalling crime, lio that as it may, the old house was deserted, save by old Moll and her hopeful son ; and youns^ ^'ny, taking with him his only sister, spent his time in cruising about in the schooner he owned, and — it was said, among the rest of the rumors — in cheating the revenue. Besides the Lodge, or ('ampbell's Castle, as it was some- times called, the island contained but one other habitation, occupied by a widow, a distant connection of the Canip- bells, who, after the death of her husband, had come hero to reside. Tho cottage was situated on the summit of a gentle elevation that conimanded an extensive view of the island ; for Mrs. Tondinson — or Mrs. Tom, as she was always called — liked a wide prospect, at least, if nothing else could be obtained on the lonely island. The most frugal, tlie most industrious of housewives wag Mrs. Tom. Xo crime in her eyes ecpialed that of thrift- lessness, and all sins could be pardoned but that of laziness. Unfortunately for her peace of n.ind, she was alllicted with an ori)han nephew, the hiziest of mortals, whose shortcomings ke[)t the bustling old lady in a fever from morning to niijlit. A wild voung sister of Mrs, Tom 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 8 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. dead in tho morning. Master Carl Henley waa accordingly adopted by liis only living relative, and, as that good lady declared, had been " the death of her " every day 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 ques- tioned on the subject, only shut her lips and shook her liead mysteriously, and spoke never a word. Althougli she called the old lady aunt, it was generally believed tliat she was no relation ; but as Christie was a favorite with all who visited the island, tho mystery conoerning her, though it piqued the curiosity of the curious, made them like her none the less. A big Xewfoundland dog and a disagreeable, chattering parrot completed the widow's household. Mrs. Tom's business was flourishing. She made a reg- ular visit each week to the maiidand, where she disposed of fish, nuts and berries, in whicli the island abounded, and in return brought back groceries and such other things as she needed. Iksides that, she kept a sort of tavern and a place of refreslnnent for the sailors and lishermen, 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 was remembered in tho country around and electrified for a time the whole com- jiunity. /I I THE MAGIC MIKKOR. V J t I i i i U > CHAPTER II. TITK MA(iI(; MIllKOU. _ turnoil my oyos, unci as I turned surveyed An awful vision." TiiF. sun was sinking in tlie far west as t lie little schooner Evening Star went dancing over tiie i)rigiit waves toward C'ainnbeirs Isle. Ca})tain (Juy ('anipWell stood leaning negligently over the talTi-ail, solacing himself with n ci^'ar and conversing at intervals with a slight, somewhat haughty-looking young man, who stood beside him, watch- ing the waves splashing as they sped along. No two could Le more opposite as far as looks went than those two, yet both were hiindsoiue and oL' aij^iit. the same age. Fiike all of his race, young Cam})bell was very tall, and (lark as a S|)aniard. Jlis short, bhick, curling hair shad- owed a forehead high, bold and commanding. Dark, keen, proud eyes (lashed from beneath j<'tty eyebrows, and the firm, resolute moutli gave to his dark face a look almost fierce. His iigure was exquisitely ])n)|)orlioiifd, and there was a certain bold frankness mingled with a reckless devil- may-care expression in his fine face, that atoned for his swarthy com])lexion and stern brows. His companion was a tall, elegant young man, with an air of proud superiority about him, as though lit> were ** somebody " and knew it. His complexion wiis fair as a lady's, and would have been eireminate but for the dark, bold eyes, and his dashing iiir generally. There was some- tliing particularly winning in hishan(1some iace.espo(Mally when he smiled, that lit up his whole countenance with new beauty. Yet, withal, there was a certain faithless expression about the finely formed mouth that would have led a close observer to liesitato b(^fore trustinjx him too far. This reader, was Mr. \\'i]lard Drunimoiid, a voung half-American, half-Parisian, :ind heir to one of the finest estates in the Old Dominion. The hist five years he had passed in Paris, and when he was thinking of return- ing home, he had encountered Captain C-ampbell and his sister. Fond of luxury and ease as the young patriciaa 1 10 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. was, ho gave up all, after that, for tlie attraction he dis- covered aboiird the schooner Evening Star. And Captain Cani))l)ell, phnised with !iis new friend, invited him to cross tl ic ocean wi th J iini, a nd s])en( few wee KS wit] 1 hmi in liis anci'Strai iionie, whitlier he was obliged to stop while some repairs wcrt^ being made in )iis vessel — which invita- tion Willard Drummond, notidng U)lli, ac('e])led. " A\'ell, ('ani]»b(!ll, how is that pat lent of yours thiseve- nmcf iiHluirei i I) rumnioiu alier a i):ins( t( 'M)on't know," re|»lied Capti.in Campbell, carelessly ; I haven't seen iiim since morning]:. Svbil is with liim now. Hy th the way, where did you pick him up ? He was not one of your crew, 1 understand." '*No; I met him in Liverpool. He came to me one day, and asked nu; to tji'vo him home. I rej)lied I luid no accommodations, and won hi much rati)er not be troubled with passengei'S. JJowevcr, he pleaded so hard for me to accommodate hiiii, and looked so like somclhing from the other world all the time, that J had not the heart to refuse the poor fellow. Jiefore we had been three days out at sea lie was taken ill, and has been raving and shrieking ever since, as you know." '* What do you sup[H)se is the matter with liiin ? " *' AVell, I haven't mueh cxi)erience as nurse myself, but I think it's brain fever or something of that kind ; Sybil, liowever, thinks that bitter remorse for something he lias done is preying on his mind; and girls always know best in these cases." *' lie is, if I may judge by his looks, of luunble stjition, rather," said Mr. Drummond. in an indiil'erent tone. '' Yes ; Miere can be no doubt of that, though he ap])ears to have plenty of money." " Has he "[iven his name : " *' Yes; l^ichard Grove." *' Hum ! Well, it would be unpleasant to have him die on hoard, of course." said Drummond. " Oh, I tliink iie'll live to reach our destination ; lie does not a])pear to be sinking very fast." *' ^Ye must be now quite near this island hon.c of yours, aptain Campbell ; I giow impatient to see it." C ** We shall reach it about moonrise to-night, if the wind holds as it is now." v! THE MAGIC MIRROR. 11 i " And wliiit, may I ask, do you intend to do with this —this Riohurd (Jrovo, when you get tliore ? Will you take him into your Robinson Crusoe castle, and nurso him until he gets well, as that enter])risinctrine. But it's all the greatest stuff, nevertheless." '• But did lie tell you whom you wore to be " Sybd stopped short ; even in jest slie coukl not m6- nounce the word. ^ "-MurckTo.I by ? " said Willu.-d, quiotly finisliiui; the sent^uee for her. '■ No, he told n,o n„il,i„g. 1 Taw it " Saw it ! How ? r do not imderstand." '; ^}\ "'« st"'-.V is lianlly worth relating, a„d ought not to ho old ,n theprc-si-no. of sncl, H.k,.|,tiS as Cantrmi ( y Can.pbol , ;' sukI i>r,unn,ond, rnnniny' his linoJrs li-ht y through Ills ihu-k, glossy locks. ".-.'"-'y "rieaven forbid I siionld wait to be inniotod bvit'" said Captain Oainiibell, starting np. "J will ivliovo viu of my presence, and allow you to entertain mv su ,eS tio.s sister here with your awful dosliiiv, of Vhich slio Will doublle.^i believe every word.-' "I should be sorry to believe anvtliiiig so droadfiil " said Sybil, gravely ; " but I do think -there are so, fe o'd ones to whom the f iture has been revealed. I wish! could meet them, and find out what it has in store for XIX \^ a angei like you:' ' """ ^' "°"""^' '""' ^''' ''"^ ^" at hiTwor'fs'."'^'"' ""''"'^ ''''''' J"''''"' '"^■'^ ••"'^' "■'^""Pl' "Do yon believe in omens?" .she said, hnighin-dv -See how brightly and beautifully yonder moon is r i h g ^ow, If ,t reaches the arch of heaven unefciuled, I si latl believe your prediction." skv^'iml^H,''" '''°''' "/'""' "'"'"' l'"^^''^' athwart the 6kj, .md the moon was obscured in darkness Invoinnfn -i ,"^'" '""" "^''^J''"' H'"' "t tl'« 'Iraul omen. L^Sa'tSy!""^''' DnunmondX who, also, had 16 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. " Heaven avert the omen ! " she cried, with a shudder. ** Oil, Willard ! the unclouded moon grew dark even while I spoke." " And now the cloud is past, and it sails on brighter than ever,'' he said, with a smile. " See, fairest Sybil, all is calm and peaceful once more. My prediction will be verified, after all." She drew a deep breath, and looked so intensely relieved, that he laughed. Sybil blushed vividly as slie said : " I know you must think me weak and child isli ; but I am superstitious by nature. Dreams, inspirations and presentiments, that no one else tliinks of, are all vivid realities to me. But you promised to tell me the German wizard's prediction concerning your future; so, pray, go on." " AVell, let me see,'' said Willard Drummond, leaning his head on his hand. '* It is no ^ three years ago that a celebrated Egyptian fortune-teller visited the town in Cermany where I resided. His fame soon spread far and wide, and crowds of the credulous came from every part to visit him. lie could not speak a word of any language but his own : but he had an interpreter who did all the talking necessary, which was very little. " I was then at a celebrated university and, with two or three of my fellow-students, resolved, one day, to visit the wizard. Arrived at his house, we were shown into a large room, and called up one by one into the presence of the Egyptian. " Our object in going was more for sport than anything else ; but when we saw the first who was called — a wild, reckless, young fellow, who feared nothing earthly — return pale and serious, our mirth was at an end. One by one the otliers were called, and all came back grave and thoughtful. By some chance, I was the last. '' I am not like you, bright Sybil, naturally supersti- tious ; but I confess, when the interpreter ushered me into the presence of this wizard, I felt a sort of chilly awe creeping over me, lie was the most singular-looking being I ever beheld. His face was exactly like one wlio has been for some days dead — a sort of dark-greenish white, with pale blue lips, and sharp Asiatic features. His eyes, black, and, piercingly sharp, looked forth from two deep caverns of sockets, and seemed the only living feature THE MAGIC MIRROR. 17 ho in his ghastly face. There were cahlrons, and lizards, and cross-bones, and tame serpents, and curious devices carved on tlie walls, ceiling and lloor, like all other such places, and the wliite, grinning skulls that were scattered about formed a hideously revolting sight in tlnit darkened room. '*The Egyptian stood before a smoking caldron and, drawn up to his full height, his size appeared almost colossal. His dress was a long, bhick robe, all woven over with scorpions, and snakes, and other equally pleasing objects, that seemed starting out dazzling white from tliis dark background. Altogether, the room looked so like a charnel house, and the wizard so like asui)ernatural being, that I am not asnamed to own I felt myself growing nervous as I looked around. " The interpreter, who stood behind, opened the scene by asking me my name, age, birthplace, and divers other questions of a like nature, whicii lie wrote down iu some sort of hieroglyphics and handed to the Egyptian. Then, bidding me advance and keep my eyes fixed on the caldrou and not speak a word, the interpreter left the room. " My heart beat faster than was its wont as I approached this wild being, and found myself completely alone with him in this ghostly, weird place. lie took a handful of what I imagined to be incense of some kind, and threw it on the red, living coals, muttering some strange sounds iu an nnknown tongue as he did so. Presently a cloud of bmoke arose, dense, black and suffocating, filling the whole room wiUi the gloom of Tartarus. Slowly, as endowed with instinct, it lifted itself up and spread itself out before me. And looking up, 1 beheld " Willard Drummond paused, as if irresolute whether to reveal the rest or not ; but Sybil grasped his arm, and iu a voice that was fairly hoarse with intense excitement, said : '•' Go on." '^I saw," he continued, looking beyond her, as if describing something then passing before him, " the interior of a church thronged with people. Flowers were strewn along the aisles, and I seemed to hear faintly the grand cadences of atriumphahhymn. A clergyman, book in hand, stood before a bridal pair, performing the mar- riage ceremony. The features of the man of God are indelibly impressed on my memory ; but the two who stood before him had their backs toward me. For about 18 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. five seconds tlicy remained tlius stationary, and then it began to grow more and more indistinct ; tlie forms grew shadowy and undefined, and began to disappear. Just before tliev vanished altouetlier, the faces of the wedded pair turned for an instant toward me ; and in the bride- groom, Sybil, 1 beheld myself. The va])or lifted and lifted, until all was gone, and notliing was to be seen but the black walls of the room, and tlie glowing, fiery coals in the caldron. *' Again the Egyptian threw the incense on the fire, and again mumbled his unintelligible jargon. Again the thick black smoke arose, filling the room, and again be- came stationary, forming a shadowy panorama before me. This time I saw a prison cell — dark, dismal and noisome. A rough straw pallet stood on one side, and on the other a pitclier of water and a loaf — orthodox prison fare from time immemorial. On the ground, chained, as it were, to the Avail, groveled a woman, in shining bridal robes, lier long, midnight tresses trailing on the foul floor. No words can describe to you the utter despair and mortal anguish depicted in her crouching attitude. I stood spellbound to the spot, unable to move, in breathlcos in- terest. Then the scene began to fade away. The pro- strate figure lifted its head, and I beheld the face of her who, a moment before, seemed to stand beside me at the altar. But no words of mine can describe to you the mortal woe, the unutterable despair in that haggard but beautiful face. Sybil ! Sybil ! it will liaunt me to my dying day. I put out my hand as if to retain her, but iu that instant all disnppeared." Once more Willard Drummond paused ; this time he was deadly pale, and his eyes were wild and excited. Sybil stood nearliim, her great, black, mystic eyes dilated, every trace of color fading from her face, leaving even her iips as pale as death. "The third time this strange enchanter went through the same ceremony as before," continued he ; "and, as in the previous cases, a new scene appeared before me ; now the time appeared to be night ; and the place a dark, lonesome wood. A furious storm of lightning and thunder, and rain was raging, and the trees creaked and bent in the fierce wind. On the ground lay the dead body of a man, weltering in blood. A dark, crimson stream THE MAGTC MIT^ROR. 19 I tlien it 'ins grew r. Just wed(]ed lie brido- ted und seen but '17 coals tlio fire, ;'din tlie :iain be- bro me. oisome. 10 otlier re f j"om 't were, robes, r. No mortal stood :tjs in- le pro- of lier at tlie )u tlie rd but o my but iu Tie he cited, a tod, even ough as in now lark, and and body 'earn 1 '.A flowed from a great, friglitful gash in his head, from wiiicii tile life sceiucd to luive just gone. As tlie white face of the murdered man was upturned to the liglit— cut, bloodv and disfigured as it was. Sybil — I recognized my- self once more. As heaven hears me, I saw it as plainly as J see youder ]>ale, fair moon now. A wiiite, ghostly form, wlietiier of woman or spirit 1 know not. seemed hovering ne;i.r, darting, as it were, in and out among the trees. Even as T gazed it grow thin and slnulowy, until all was gone again. '• ]'\.)r the fourth and last time, the Egy})tian threw the strange incense on tlie ^'re, and ' spoke the words of power,' and a new vision met my horrified gaze. J seemed to behold an immense concourse of })eoj)le, a vast mob, swaying to and fro, in the wildest excitement. A low, hoarse growl, as 01 distant thunder, ])ass(M| at intervals through the vast crowd, and every eye was raised to an object al)ove them. J looked up, too, and beheld u sight that seemed freezing the very blood in my veins. Jt was a scaffold, and standing on it, with the ignominious halter around her white, beantiful neck, was sin; who had stood beside me at the altar, whom I Inid seen chained in her l)rison cell, doomed to die by the hand of the ])ul)lic hang- man now. Iler beantiful hands were stretched out wildlv, imploringly, to tlie crowd below, wlio only hooted her in her agony and despair. The executioner led her to the fa^^-.d drop, a great shont arose from the crowd, then all faded away ; and, looking up as if from an appalling dream, 1 saw the interpreter beckoning me from the door. How I reeled from the room, with throbbing brow and feverish pulse, I know not. Evcrytliing seemed swimming around me : Jind, in a state of the wildest excitement, 1 was Imrried home by my companions. The next day the Egvptian left the citv, and where he went after 1 never heard. Such was the glimpse of the future I beheld. It was manv months after before 1 completely recovered from the shock I received. How to account for it. 1 do not know. Certain 1 am that I beheld it, truly, as J have told it in every particular — for the impression it made npon meat the time was so powerful, tlijit everything con- nected with it is indelibly engraven on my memory. It may seem strange, absnrd, impossible ; but that 1 have nothing to do with ; I only know 1 saw it, incredible as it 20 THE QUEKX OF THE ISLE seems. But good heaven ! Sybil, dearest, yon are ill— faintiiiJ^ ! " l\ile, treinbliiig and excited, the once fearless Syl)il Campbell clung to his arm, white with vague, siciveiiin;; liorror. Sui)erHtitious to an unusual degree, an awful presentiment liad clutched licr lieart, and, for a moment, siie seemed dying in liis arms. Sybil ! Sybil ! my dearest love ! " he said, in alarm, (( 'Mvhat is it?" '"'Nothing — nothing," she answered, in a tremnlous voice ; '* but, oh, Willard! do you believe tlie prediction?" '* Strange, wild girl tliat you are ! lias this idle tale fright- ened you so ?" smiling at her wild, dilated eyes. h, declining tlic needless aid, sprang liglitly out, and stood beside bini. The figure of a woman, who had been standing on a rock watching their ap])roach, now came forward, exclaim- ing delightedly : " Laws-a-massey, Miss Sybil ! Who ever s'posed we'd see you here again ? Where hev ycu been to this long time ? " ''My dear Mrs. Tom !" said Sybil, smilingly holding out her hand, *' I am delighted to see you. unere nave I been is a troublesome question to answer, seeing that I liave heen almost everywhere you could mention !" '^ Laws, now ! hev you ^' 'Spect yon had nice times sailin' round, though it does seem odd how you can stand all the seasickness you must hev come through. 'Tain't every young critter would do it. But then you alius was ditferent from most young* folks. (Jemini ! how you've growed, and how handsome you've got ! Jest as pooty as a pictur ! and that, I s'pose is young jNLaster (Jny," con- tinued the loquacious newcomer, eagerly, as the young captain leaped lightly ashore. Sybil nodded, and blushed slightly, as she encountered the gaze of Drummond, who stood watching jMrs. 'J'om, with a half smile of amusement on his fine face. " M.'ister Guy !" said tlie officious Mrs. Tom. bustling forward, 'S'ou hain't forgotten your old aunty, I hope? My gracious I you've got as tall as a hop-pole ! Growed out of my knowledge altogether ! " " Wliy, Mrs. 'I'om ! is it possible ? " exclaimed Captain Guy, catching her hand in his hearty grasp. '' Looking as young and smart as ever, too ; and as fresh and breezy as a May morning ! Ton my word, Fm delighted to see THE ^[AXIAC'S CURSE. 23 >orfo(l by t. lookod fc.'ituri's, 11(1 Mioir t life, in- t'd cyos. T ill \()\y ^tui'birig ■>o(l out, nyjiij)!), d stood ii;t on a xclaiiii- fl we'd is long oldiiig liHve tJiat I tijiios stand Fain't s was ou've ty as con- oung ered Tom, rling )pe ? • wed tain ing ezy see vou looking so well ! JIow jiro pretty Christie and Master 'Carl ? " *• Oh ! Christie is well enough, ajul pooiier than ever ; and, what's more, she's as good as she's handsome. \U\t (^'jirl — oh, Master (Juy I that there young limb'll break my heart yet ! 1 h-in't tiie slightest doubt of it I All of the tlirifless, good-l ")r-n«)thiiig lazy-hones "' **OhI well, Mrs. Tom, he'll outgrow that. The best thing you can do is to let me lake him to sea with me, tho n(!Xt time 1 ,i,'o, and that will cure him of his laziness, if anvthing will. In tlu; mean time, I have a patient for yoii to take eare of, if ycni have no objeetion. lie can't last much longer, [)(>or fellow, and you are a better nurse than Sybil. What do you say, Mrs. 'lom ? Shall I have him sent up to your house ? " Mrs. Tom was a brown-faced, black-eyed, keen-looking, wide-awake, gossiping little woman, of four feet high, with a tongue that could, and did, say sharp things sometimes ; but with a heart so warm and large (hat it is a wonder how it ever found room in so small a body. However, 1 have been told, as a general thing, little people are by far, cleverer and warmer-iiearled than their tall neighbors — as if nature was anxious to atone for their shortened stature bv frivinu: them a double allowance of lutart and brains. Xursing was Mrs. Toms peculiar eleuKMit. Nothing de- lighted her more than to get possession of a patient whom slie could iloctor back to health. 15ut, unfortunately, this desire of her heart was seldom gratillejl ; for both Carl and Christie were so distressingly healthy that " yarb tea" and *• chicken broth" were only thrown away upon them. Her frequent visits to the mainland, however, all'orded her an opportunity of physicking indiscriminately certain unfortunate little wretches who Avere always having in- iluenza, and measles, and whooping-cough, atid other little complaints, too numerous to mention, and which Hed be- fore Mrs. 4.'om's approach and the power of her *'yarb tea." Of late, there had been a " plentiful scarcity " even of these es(jape valves, so her eyes twinkled now with de- light at the prospect of this godsend. " Send him up ? Sartinly you will, ^faster Guy. I'll take care of him. This here's the best road, up to the side of the rocks ; 'tain't so rough as it is here." *' Lift him up," said Captain Campbell, to the sailors 24 rv THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. wlio nad rovvod thorn aslioro. "(JcMiily, boys," lie said, as tlic sick man irroanod. " Don't hurt liim. Follow Mrs. ri' 'J'oin (o lior cottaiio — Mint's tlto way. I'll bo down oarly to-morrow to sec* him. Mrs. 'i'otn. Thiswiiy, Driimmoiid ; follow mo. I'll ))i(l you ^oimI ini;hl, Mrs. Tom. Uomom- bor mo to ('hrisiio." And (':i|)(;iin (';iinj>bt'Il spra!i;,Mip Iho ro('i\S, foHowcMl by Syl)il and Drummond. in tho diroo tion of (';unj)l)(»irs Cnst lo. Mrs. Tom, with the rapidity wbi(di tbo two sturdy soa- jnoii found it ilitlicult to follow, burdonod as thov woro, >vali\od tow.'ird hor i'ott!i<;o. Th(> homo of Mrs. Tom was a low, ono-story honso, oon- sistinj^ of ono lari^o room and bodroojn, with a loft jd)ovo, \vhoi"o all sorts of lumbor and ,<;;ir(K>n implomonts woro thrown, and whon* MastiM' (';irl souiiht^ his ro})os(>, A j;"ar(ion in front, with a woll-iifravolod ])ath, lod up to tho front dot)r ;ind into t lio apiirtmont which sorvod as kitchen, pnrlor, dininu-room and sic«>pin!L;-room for (Mirisli(^ ;iiid ]\Irs. Tom. 'i'ho furniture* \v;is of tho plainest dosci'ipt ion, and s(>anty at that ; for Mrs. Tom was ]>oor, in spil(! of all licr industry ; but, as mi<;ht oo oxpoctod frojii so thrifty a ^rh liousowift\ ovorythinu- was iiko waxwork. I'lu; snnill dui- mond-shapod panes in tho windows Hashed liko jewels in tho moonlight, and tho Ihtors ami (diairs woro scrubbed as >vhito as human hands c»,.v'ld make thom. lUdiind tho house w;»s a lar^'o vouotablo iiarden, nominalH' cultivated by Carl, but really by Mrs. Tom, ^vho jiroforrod doing tho "Work herself, to watchino" hoi lazy nt^phew. As tho men onterod with their l)urden. Mi's. Tom throw 0]>en tho bedroom door, and tho sicdv nnm was de{)osited on tho bed. Tiiohts were brouuht by Carl, a round-fac{>d, yellow-haired, sloepy-lookinii; youth of tifteen, with dull, unmeaning" blue eyes, and a slow, indolent ^'ait — the very opposite in every way to his brisk, bustliuijj little aunt. *' l^e olT with you to bed ! " saitl .Mrs. Toju. " It's the best place for any ono so lazy as you are. ('l(>ar out, iu)w ; for I am going to sit up with this hero sick man, and want quiet I With ovidon* willingness, Carl shulUod oif, leaving Mrs. Tom alone with hor patient. Tho little woman api)roachod tho hod and looked at his pinched, sallow features with an experioncod eye. It was evident 10 her lie could not survive tho night. THE MANIAC'S CURSE. 25 )Ilow Mrs. '>\vn cjirly Rcrnoni- 'ic (lirec- "•'ly soji- <\v were, l.^(\ COFl- 's were osp. A > <() llio itclicri, lio and ■ij'tioii, I' of uJl inTiv a ill (I'iji- vcIh ill 'h!(1 ;i,S Hi Mio ivutod li^' tlio f Iirow >siled accd, dull, very t s (ho \o\v ; want '■- Ill's ^vas 4 a M <' I wonder if ho, knows IiIh (Mid'H ho ncur at hand/' said lyfrs. 'I'oni to liersclf. " llo ought to know, anyliow. I'll tell him wlien he wakes, cause it's no use for nie liying to do anything with him." The man was not ar.eep. As slie Hj)oke ho opened liis larg(\ wilddooking, hlack eyes, and gaze*! jiivwmd vacantly. " Mister,'' hegaji Mrs. 'I'om, ** I don't know yourniiinf- ; ]>ut 'tain't no o(hls. Do you know how long you have to 1V(^ • " How h)ng ? " said the man, h)oking at her with a ,'^a/c so wihi. that, had M fs. 'I\»nj Ixien. the least, l)it m rvous, it would have tcri'iliefl her heyond measure. '* Not three hours," said Mi's. Tom, gra,vely. A sort of wild horror overs[»read the face of the eover who they ■\vero ; ane well devil, ■e's no their the been, 1 was I now ' fate avjly ise. iarm hing ■d to asks one my d I ood 'ith 3en THE MANIAC'S CURSE. 27 fellow we were in search of. Your name is Richard Grove ? ' '^ * Yes,' I managed to say, quaking with mortal fear. '*^Yjii are a mason by trade, and live in Minton?' asked, or rather attirined, my tierce questioner. "' I re])lied in tiie atlirmative, for 1 saw there was no use in attempting a lie. " ' All right, Tom. Yon go for the carriage ; I will take care of our friond here, until you return.' " The one with the knife left the house, and the other, draAving a pistol, the disagreeable click of which ma;iru 1. of water i„ ruy face ^/c / '^^ ^^' ^'^^^^^^^^ ^^ashi„^ yig m the room r in^i i ' ^ ^ ^'^^^"^ vvas a ]io-j,f ].. ^ lav thn ,7 1 V . ^ ^ooKcd around Ti,,. * '^ ourn- J^'io S]o- If T,r..,,.i„ 7*^ to'i's'i m Jus side ' "•"■k je, sirrah ! have done wiH, n • uone with this cowardly fool- THE MANIAC'S CURSE. 29 md brcak- 't<^ H boat, 'J'be boat Iroad fully on with a vore fully iit struck '■(J oil Jiiy sio?i, the ^iid ihi'ii reaclicd ' quarter ity lock, ^('uiitioa I'oiigh a eriietl to "1 open he door itl look 11 Id see tlirujt need a y sub- L'thijig baud tbhik ^frs. sed at "for r my ibing )uru- floor bich tb a 1 oil at 1 30l- :^ orv> or, by boaven, yoii sliull sbare tlic same fate of liim vou see before you. No matter wliat you see to-night, speak not, nor ask any questions, under peril of instant death. If you perform your duty faithfully, this sliall l)e your reward.' As he spoke he displayed a purse Tilled up M'ith bright, yellow guineas. '* Ikfore I couKl reply, a shriek, that seemed to come from below, resounded through the room ; a shriek so full of wild horror, and anguish, and des{)air, that even my companion gave a violent start, and stood as if listening intently. As for me, my very life-blood seemed curdling as the wild, piercing cries of agony came nearer and nearer. A heavy footstep ascended the stairs, and I could hear the sound of some body dragging up. Closer and closer came those appalling screams, and a man entered, masked likewise, dragging after him the convulsed form of a young girl. " To this dav I have never seen a more beautiful crea- ture, notwithstanding her face was distorted with fear and horror. As she entered her eyes fell on the form of the dead man on the lloor. With supernatural strength she broke from the man who held her, and bent for an instant over the lifeless body. It sufticed to tell her that he was quite dead ; and tiieu throwing up her white arms, she fled around tlie room, shrieking as I never heard any liv- ing being shriek before. Great heaven ! those awful cries are ringing in my ears yet. " The man who had led her in sprang forward and caught her by both wrists. She struggled like one mad, but even the unnatural strength of frenzy failed to free her from his iron grasp. I could see her delicate wrists grow black in tlie cruel grasp with which he held her. '' The man beside me said something in a foreign tongue — 'French, I think — to wnicli the other nodded, without speaking. My guide then went and unlocked a door at the farther end of the apartment, from which he drew forth a great heap of bricks and mortar, and all the im- plements necessary for building a wall. •'A light began to dawn upon me. The body of this murdered man was to be walled up here. '' My suspicion was correct. Making a sign for me to assist him. the man raised the head, and not daring to H ' : if I ! !■ I il 30 TIIJ^ QlTEm OF THE ISLE. "'g ".. I.e tuV ea 1 "? t'.e massive o,.S doo, "Ztf co'iiiii.'iiided mo f, „ "•' "'"' speaking f,,,- tim fi ""'^- 's^t^ }H»«S-;;, HP'S ' ^^^^^f« the door had been 'n THE MANIAC'S CURSE. 31 d it into k closet k walls, not ro- -for he osoimd- ^'r each t it was but be- , elasp- LT from sprang S2)irit. ied her t hnvG raven's fcenial dreu's could u like 1 her tiered lock- inie, sioii, !lovo ,v iii- |torn Do land kod Is as \n a :ot he pe- en 'I was a wall of solid masonry, which her death cries could never penetrate. '' * It is well ! ' said he who a])]ieared to me the supe- rior. ' (-live him the reward I told you of ! ' The other silently handed me the purse. And now swear never to reveal what you have this niyht seen, till your dying day 1 ' '• * I swear.' said I, for I dared not refuse. *' ' That will do. Take him away I ' sai'' the speaker, leaving the room. '• ]\Iy guide blindfolded me as I had been before, and led me out, locking the door on the awful secret. "Aslhad been brought up, 1 was led to the beach. The boat was in waiting, and I was taken away, landed, convoyed into the carriage, which, for upward of half an hour, drove around some circuitous route. Then I was assisted out and left standing alone. I tore the bandage from my eyes and looked around, but the carriage was gone ; and I never heard or discovered aught more of the events of that night. *' From that day my peace of mind was gone. Years passed, but it haunted me night and day, until I became a morose and dreaded man. Then I traveled from land to land, but nothing ever could banish from my ears that woman's dying shrieks and despairing eyes. " In Liverpool 1 fell ill. I felt 1 must die, and wanted to come and get buried in my native land. Captain Camp- bell brought me here ; and now that I have told all, I can die in peace. In peace — never ! nerer until that woman's face is gone ! Oh, God ! " he cried, raising himself up ■with a shriek, and pointing to the window, '^she is there \" AVith a scream almost as wild as his own, Mrs. Tom started up and looked. A pale, wild, woful face, shrouded in wild black hair, was glued for a moment to the glass, and then was gone. Paralyzed with terror, Mrs. Tom turned to the sick num. His jaw had dropped, his eyes were protruding from their sockets, and he was dead. II ; 1 1 ) I, ) I 33 THE QUEEX OF THE ISLF I I CHAPTER IV. THE HAUXTEI) ROOM. liil' I ^ Undeti the gnitlancc of young Guy Campbell, Wilhml Drummond jind Sybil ascended the steep, rocky path lead- ing to Campbell Lodge. Captain Guy bounded over the rocks with the agility of a deer, while his two compan- ions more leisurely followed. '^Yonder is my island home, old Cami)bell Castle/' said Sybil, as an abrupt turn in the rough road brought them in full view of tiie old mansion-house. *^ It is nearly three years now since I have seen it." Both paused as if involuntarily to contemplate it. Years and neglect had performed their jsual work of destruction on the lodge. The windows were broken in many places, and the great gate before the house hung useless and fallen off its rusty hinges. The coarse, red sandstone of which it had been origiiuiUy built was now black with age and the many storms that had beaten against it. No lights were to be seen, no smoke issued from the tall chimneys, all looked black, gloomy and de- serted. The swallows had built their nests in the eaves and ruined gables, and even the tall, dark, spectral pines that formed an avenue to the dilapidated gateway had a forlorn and dismal look. In the pale, bright moonlight the ruined homestead of the Campbells looked cold, bleak and uninviting. Even the long, gloomy shadows from the trees, as they lay on tlie grou'^d, seemed to the super- stitious mind of Sybil like uneartlily hands waving them away. She shuddered with a chill feeling of dread, and clung closer to the arm of Drummond. *' Quite a romantic-looking old place this," said the young man, gayly. " Really charming in its gloomy grandeur, and liighly suggestive of ghosts and rats and other vermin of a like nature," while he inwardly mut- tered, ''Dismal old hole; even Sybil's bright eyes can hardly recompense me for burying myself alive in such a rickety dungeon." jj THE HAUNTED ROOM. 33 Willard itli lead- over the conipaii- le/' said lit tliem *ly tlireo ilate it. vork of okeii ill e hung' I'se, red as now beaten issued md de- eaves 1 pines had a )nliglit bleak from super- them 3, and d the oomy 3 and mut- s can uch a ■4' i4 1 i **It has not a very hospitable look, I must say," said its young mistress, witii a smile ; '* but, in spite of its for- bidding aspect, I hope we will bo able, by some means, to make ^our stay here endurable." *' A desert would seem a paradise to me, with you near by," said Drummond, in his low, lover-like tones. *' My only regret is that our stay here is destined to be so short." The dark, bright face of the young island girl flushed with pleasure : l)ut ere she could re[)ly the hall door was thrown open, and Captain Campbell stood, hat in hand, before them. ''Welcome to Campbell Castle," he said, w^th a gay courtesy, stepping aside to let them enter. ** Thank you," said Drummond, bowing gravely, while lie glanced with some curiosity around, to see if the in- terior looked more inviting than the exterior. ^J'hey stood in a long, wide hall, high and spacious, which the light of the llickering candle Captain Campbell held strove in vain to illuminate. At the farther extrem- ity a winding staircase rose up, and u]>, until it was lost in the gloom above. Two wide, black doors Hanked the hall on either side, and Captain Campbell threw open that on the right saying : *' This I have discovered, upon investigation, to be at 2)resent the only habitable apartment in the house. Woful are the accounts I have received from worthy Aunt Moll and her sou and heir Lemuel, of the state of the nhimncys. The swallows have built their nests in the only one that ever did draw respectably, and all the rest leak at such a rate every time it rains tliat the lire is not only completely extinguished, but the rooms filled with water." ''And what 'n the world are we to do, brother ?" asked Sybil, in disnicty at this unpromising picture. '^ Why, we must make the best we can of a bad bar- gain. I have sent Lem — much against his will, I must say, for the young man is disagreeably afflicted with lazi- ness — to take the swallows' nests out of the chimney and make a fire there, while Aunt Moll does all the other etceterps necessary for receiving as its inmate Tier Majesty the Queen of the Isle. Tlien, as there is but one other habitable room in the house, Signer Drummond must occupy it, although it has not the most pleasant reputatioL in the world." 34 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. *' How is that ? " asked Drunimond, driiwing up a chair and seating himself in front of tlic fire that, tliants to tiio exertions of Captain Caniphell, was already burning brightly on the liearth. " Why, to tell tlio truth, Aunt Moll and her hopeful son assert it to he haunted, as it niont probably is by rats. If you are wiling to trust yourself to the ghost's mercy, I can freely i)roniiso you safety from all other dangers." " Haunted ? liy Jove, that's capital ! I have been ■wishing all my life to see a 'boua-fide ghost, and lo ! tlio time has come at last. lint what manner of ghost is it, saith the legend — fair or foul, old or young, handsome or liideous ? " " On that point T am distressingly short of information. Lem's description is rather vague. He describes it as being * higlier than anything at all, with fire coming out of its eyes, long hair reaching to the ground, and dressed in white.' " '* Of course ! " said Drummond. " Who ever heard of a ghost that was not dressed in white ? Ton my honor, I am quite enchanted at the opportunity of making the acquaintance of its ghostship." During this conversation Sybil had left the room ''on hospitable thoughts intent," and now returned to announce that supper was already i)rogressing rapidly — most welcome news to our hungry gentlemen. Sybil had taken off her hat, and now her raven curls fell in heavy tresses to her waist. In the shadow tiiose glitter- ing ringlets looked intensely black, but where the firelight fell upon them a sort of red light shone through. As she moved through the high, shadowy rooms, with the grace- ful, airv motion that lent a charm to her commonest action, AVillard Drummond, following her with his eyes, felt a secret sense of exultation, as he thought this mag- nificent creature was his, and his {done. This bright im- passioned sea-nymph • this beautiful, radiant daughter of a noble race ; this royal, though dowerless, island queen, loved him above all created beings. Had she not told him, as he whispered words of love, that he was dearer to lier than all tlie world beside ? Some day he would make her his wife, and take her with him to his princely home in Virginia j and he thought, with new ex- THE TIAUXTED ROOM. 35 P a chair Ks to the burning hopeful bly IS by ghost's all other 'Ve been i lo ! the :)st is it, Isome or 'matioii. es it as gout of dressed leard of honor, ing the m *'on nounce el CO me rls fell glitter- relight As she grace- nonest eyes, niag- it ini- ighter island le not e was ay ho o his w ex- tiltation, of the sensation this glorious planet wo.ild nuiko among tiie lesser stars of liis native State. So tliought and argued Willard l/ruininond in tlie first blush and delirium of love. Ho ditl not stop to think that he had loved witli oven more intensity onee before ; that he had raved ( ven in like manner of another far less bright than this quciMily Syhil. He did not slop to think that even so he might lovo agani. No. Kveiything was forgotten but the intoxieating girl before him, with her sparkling faee, her glorious eyes of jet, and her llasliing, sunbright hair. From the rha}).so(ly of passion — from the seventh heaven of his day dreams, he was at last recalled l)y the voice of Sybil herself summoning him lo supper. He looked u]) with a start, half inclined to be i>rovoke(l at this sudden summons from his ideal world to the vul- gar reality of su[)})er of hot cakes, tea and preserves. But there sat Sybil at the head of the table', bright and smiliiiiir — beautifving even the dull routine of the tea-table with the charm of her presence. And then, too — now that his airy vision was gone — Mr. AV'illard Drummond began to recollect he was very hungry, and that ''dreams and visions "' were, after all, very unsubstantial things, compared witli the bread and butter of every-day life, de- grading as the confession was. Guy had already taken his place, so Willard took the seat his young hostess }>ointed out to him, and the busi- ness of the tea-table commenced. Wh:jn the meal was over. Aunt IsloW cleared the table, and the two gathered round the fire — for, though the weather was warm, the great, nnaired room was chill enough to render the fire pleasant. By degrees — perhaps it was owing to the strange, dreary loneliness of the place — the conversation turned upon deserted houses, bold robberies, murders, and, by natural consequence, npon ghosts. Willard and C'a])tain Campbell seemed striving to outvie each other in telling the most frightful tales, the latter taxing his innii^ination, to invent them when the original failed to produce the necessary degree of horror. Every one knows what a strange fascination such ghostly legends have ; the hours passed almost unnoticed, and it was only when the lire lil ill: i I Hi I 80 TITE QUKKX OF TlIK ISLK. burtiod low on tlu' licurth, ami tlio solitary cjindlo spnt- tcrccl in the Hocki't hefoii! ^n>iMi( out, that our party becaiuo aware of tlio latcncsf^ oi' tlio lioiir. *MVl'1I, wc liiivo IxMMi proliluMy s|)('miiu<^ tlio ovoiiiuir, I must say," said Captain ('amj)lM'll. risiiii,^ with a hi"u^h. ** You shouhl hav(! been in l)i'd an hour a<;o, Syl)il. ]h'n; ! Aunt Moll,'' he cried, p^oinix to the door. " JJring lis lights, and show ^^r. l)runini()U(| to his room.'' Ho waited for a respons(\ but none eanu^ ; only the eelio of his own voice sounded dolefully throui;h the hall. *' Hallo ! Aunt Moll, I say — Lem, brini; candles,'' oiico more called Captain Campbell. Again he waited for an answer, and a<,^ain none came. "Confound it I" ho muttered, turniiii;" away, " the sleepy-headed j)air havo doubtless been in bed for the last three hours, and are as sound asleep as the Seven Sleepers by this time." "Never mind, (Juy," said Sybil, laughing at his rueful face, " I'll go. Aunt ^loU and Lem are tired, doubtless, •with their extraordinary exertions this evening, and it "would be a pity to wake them." She quitted the room as she spoke, in the direction of the kitchen, in search of lights. And presently she reappeared, and, announcing that Aunt Moll was stretcdied out on her pallet before tho kitchen lire, asleep, she took her light, and, bidding them a smiling good-night, left them to seek her owu room. And Captain Campbell, taking a candle, preceded his guest in tho direction of the '' haunted chamber." AVillard Drummond entered and looked round. It was a high, wide, spacious chamber, as were all in the house, Tvith floors, doors and casements of dark polished oak, black now with time and use. In the wide fireplace at one end a fire had been burning all the evening, but only the red, smoldering embers remained now. At the other end of the room, o})posite the fire, was his bed, and be- tween them, facing the door, was a deep, dormer window. The room looked cheerful and pleasant, and, throwing himself into an easy, old-fashioned armchair before the fire, he exclaimed : **Well. in spite of all the ghosts and hobgoblins that ever walked at * noon of night,' I shall sleep here as sound as a top until morning. Your ghost will have 4 THE IIAUXTEl) ROOM. 87 tho owu to pivc ino a ])rotty vigorous sluikiiif,' before uwuko, T/hcn once I close my eyes on this mortal life.'* 'M'crliiips tile ghost, if in the least timorous, will not iippejir to so undiinnted an individual as yourself ! (Jooil ni;;hi." And, [)lacin<; the light on the table, Captain Cjmipbell left tho room. WillartTs first cart! was to lock the door securely, and then I'art'lully examine the room. Tlu'ri' was no other means of ingress but the one by which lie had entered, and the room did not seem to communicate with any otlu>r. The window was high above the ground anil llrmly nailed down. Clearly, then, if the ghost entered at all, it must assume its ghostly i)rerogative of coming through the keyhole — for there was no other means by which ghost or mortal could get in. Satisfied with this, >Villard Drummond went to bed, but, in spite of all his etforts, sleej) w> eyes. *' And visitor ? " ** Exactly like the description ]Mrs. Tom gives of the face that appeared at tlie window. White as that of tlio dead, with darlc, streaming hair and wild, vacant, (hirk eyes." " Oh, Willard ! Can it be that — but no, it is impos- sible. At what hour did this apparition appear ? '' *' Between one and two, as near as I can judge.'' "Strange, strange! I, too, heard something dreadful last night.'' '' Is it possible ? What was it, dearest Sybil ?" "Listen. About midnight I was awakened by some- thing that sounded like a heavy fall right outside my door, followed by a groan so deep, so horrible, that the very blood seemed freezing in my veins. Trembliug with terror, I half rose to listen ; but all, for a time, wad still. Trying to persuade myself I was only dreaming, I was about to lie down again, when a shriek the most appalling broke upon the air and died away in an agonized moan. I dared not move ; I could not sleep, and I lay cowering in superstitious horror until morning. With the bright sunshine came renewed courage, and I feared to mention what I had heard to my brother or you, lest I should be laughed at, even as you feared the same. Willard, there must be some horrible mystery here — some foul crime, I fear, has at some time been perjietrated within those walls. What if " She paused. "Well, Sybil ?" he said, inquiringly. " Oh, Willard ! what if this house has been the scene of that mystery the dying man spoke of ? 1 thought of it from the first." " Nonsense, Sybil ! What an idea ! " And yet he looked disturbed himself as he spoke. " How otherwise are we to account for those ghostly visit- ings, those midnight apparitions and appalling shrieks ? " "And yet nothing could induce your brother to adopt your belief, lie would laugh at our credulity, were we to tell him what we have seen and heard." " Yes ; and perhaps I had better uot tell him, Willard. -^m 11 ilil 46 THE QUEEN OF TEE ISLE. i I li I ,1^ ii I will have your room changed, and my own likewise. Even if tliey are less comfortable, they will be more en- durable than to be disturbed by midnight specters." " J3e it so, then, fairest Sybil," he said, gaily. And turning, they walked together to the Lodge. CHAPTER VL "Off with the old love, and on with the new." " Holy St. Francis ! what a clianpro is here ! Is Uusalie, whom tliou didst love so dear, So soon foi'sakeu ? Youuf^ nien's love, then, lies Not truly in tlieir hearts, but in their eyes." " — Komeo and Juliet. The following night passed without disturbance, either earthly or ghostly, at Campbell's Lodge. Early in the morning Captain Campbell wen! over to the mainland on business. And Sybil, accompanied by Drummond, went down to the cottage to visit Mrs. Tom. There was an inward feeling of pleasure at Sybil's heart when she learned Christie was away to the mainland on a visit. Not that she doubted Willard ; but she remem- bered Christie as a very pretty child, grown by this time, doubtless, into a lovely girl, and it might not be altogether safe to throw the gay man of the world into dangerous society. Toward noon, as they were sauntering along the sun- shiny beach, she hanging on his arm, while he softly whispered the words *' ladies lovr to hear," they espied a boat advancing toward them. Sybil raised her telescope to survey tlie newcomers. " Rev. Mr. Mark Brantwell and wife," she exclaimed, in tones of surprise and pleasure. " Guy has doubtless called upon them and told them I was here." *^ Friends of yours ?" asked Willard. ^' Yes ; the Episcopal clergyman of N , whom I have known since my earliest childhood. But here they are." The boat at this moment touched the shore, and Sybil, disengaging her arm, ran down to meet them. Willard irnre leisurely followed, just in time to see his lady love folded in the arms of a gentleman who sprang from the boat. The stranger vfas of middle age, married and a clergyman ; yet, in spite of all, Mr. Drummond felt a THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 47 sudden twinge of jealousy and anger at beholding the em- brace. But the next moment jealousy, anger, every feel- ing was swallowed up in intense astonishment, not un- mingled with superstitious horror. For as the clergyman turned round and Willard obtained a full view of his face, he recognized the countenance of him he had seen years before in tinit mystic vision at the Egyptian's. For a moment lie stood regarding him, pale with wonder ; and it was only when he heard the clear, ringing voice of Captain Campbell, as he approached him, saying, with a hearty slap on the shoulder : **Why, Drummond man alive, what ails you? You are as pale as a ghost," that he awoke from his trance of surprise. *' Are you ill ? " said Sybil, anxiously, as she approached, leaning on the arm of Mrs. Brantwell. *' A light headache — nothing more," said Willard, re- covering himself by an effort; 'Clothing worth being alarmed about," he added, seeing Sybil's still anxious eyes. " 'MVhy, Sybil, have you grown nervous and cowardly ? " exclaimed Mr. Brantwell. *' You, who used to be as bold and daring as a mountain eaglet ? ]U\t, perhaps," he added, glancing meaningly at Willard, "it is only where some very particular friend is concerned that your fear8 are thus easilv aroused." Willard smiled slightly, while Sybil's dark face grew crimson, as she hurried on with increased rapidity, draw- ing her companion with her, and leaving the gentlemen behind. When they reached the Lodge Sybil left her brother to entertain their guests, while she set about preparing luncheon. When the meal was over Mrs. l^rantwell said : *' And now. Miss Sybil, I have come to carry you off. It is three years since I have iiad the pleasure of seeing you, and I shall certainly take you with me now. Come, no excuses — I will not heav one of them." "But my dear Mrs. Brantwell " began Sybil. "But my dear ^liss Campbell, yon must conio — do you hear that ? Your brother can certainly do wiihout you for a week." "Yes, and glad to be rid of her, too," said the gallant Captain Campbell. .5 , ■■*» 48 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. ! k |i ,;! Sybil stole a glance toward Drnmmoiid from under liei* long eyelashes. He was sitting looking out of tlie window, with an exceedingly dissjitisfied frown on liis brow. Mrs. l^rantwell perceived the glance, and broke out [igain with her usual bluntness : ''And as for that other gentlemen you are looking at, Sybil, 1 am sure he will be generous enough to spare you for a few days, as hv. will, in all probability, have enough of you before long." Again Sybil crimsoned and glanced reproachfully at her plain-K[)oken friend, and jigain Air. Drummoud was forced to smile, in spite of his ill humor, at the good lady's brusque bluntness. " You will have to come, you see, Miss Sybil," said Mr. Brant well, laughing. " Of course she will," added his brisk spouse; ** and, upon my word, 1 think lam doing her a favor in taking her from this lonesome island and letting her see a little of civilized life at our hands ; though, from Sybil's looks, I should sa/ she doesn't feel at all grateful for it." " liuleed, Mrs. Brantwell, I do, but " ''There, there I I won't listen to another word." Aiid Mrs. Brantwell, a tall, good-humored lady clapped her hands over her ears. ''Guy, make this ungrateful sister of yours hold her tongue and do as she is told." " Come, Sybil, there is no help for it, you see," said Guy. " Drummond and I will get along swimmingly during your absence. He can keep his hand in in making love to Aunt Moll, while I try my powers of persuasion over ]\Irs. Tom." Sybil laughed, and paused for a moment in thought. She would infinitely have preferred remaining on the ishmd with Willard, but it would never do to allow them to think that was her reason ; and, after all, a week would soon pass. Had Christie been home, no persuasions could have induced her to go ; but in her absence there was nothing to fear. Then, too, Willard, so long accus- tomed to her presence, would miss her so much when she was gone that, doubtless, his love would be increased rather than diminished. Involuntarily, while thinking of him, her eyes wandered to where he stood. Again the sharp-sighted Mrs. Brant- well observed it, and again she broke out impatiently : And said liugly ■idered rant- THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 49 \ "Lord bless me ! Mr. Dnimmoiul, just turn round, will you and tuU Syl)il she may go. Nothing earthly will induce her to come till you give permission. I'm sure if }ou were her father she couldn't be more afraid of dis- pleasing your lordship." '* Miss Cam})bell needs no permission of mine. I ara only too happy to think she will have an opportunity of enjoying herself so well," said Willard, with a grave bow. ** VV'ell, I'm sure that's a mercy to be thankful for. Now, perhaps, you will come. Sybil," said the plain-spoken lady, " and as for you, sir, I shall expect to see you at the parsonage every day with Mr. (hiy." '*! shall be mosthapj^y," said Willard, his face bright- ening a little, while Sybil's eye's sparkled with anticipa- tion. " Well now, run and get ready," said Mrs Brantwell, turning to Sybil. Sybil soon reappeared, dressed for her journey. And then, as the afternoon was far advanced, the whole party descended to the beach. The adieux were spoken, the boat pushed off, leaving the two young men alone on the sands. *' I must go over to Westbrook dockyard tliis afternoon,'* said Guy, *' where the Evening Star is now lying. What do you say to coming with me ? " '' I prefer remaining here," said Willard, who had not yet quite recovered his good humor, after what he was pleased to call Sybil's desertion. *' Well, then, I'll remain with you," said Guy, who was the soul of frankness and good temper. *' By no means ! " said Urummond, hastily. *'Do not stay on my account. I have a slight headache Ptill, and will retire to my room." " But it seems hardly courteous to leave you altogether alone." *' Nonsense, my dear fellow ! I insist upon it. I hope you do not think of standing on ceremony with me ! " ** So be it, then," said Captain Campbell, gaily, as he sprang into his boat, pushed off, and shot like an arrow out into the water. Drawing a cigar from his pocket, Willard Drummond lit it and proceeded to stroll up and down the beach, in no very amiable frame of mind. He felt angry in spite of all. 00 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. i ' .''11 at Sybil's leaving him, and with this feeling would now and then mingle another of profoutid amazement at the exact resemblance this Mr. Brant\/ell bore to the face lio had seen in that singular vision. Was the fell prediction about to be verified ? Lost in such tlioughts as tiiese, ho was suddenly startled by a voice singing a wild, sweet song of the sea, in the clearest and most deliglitful tones he had ever heard. Surprised at the unexpected sound, he sprang up the rocka in the direction from whence it camo and beheld a sight that transfixed hirn with amaiement. A young girl, l)eautiful as an angel, stood on an over- hanging crag, witli one round, white arm resting liglitly on the rocks, singing to herself as she gazed on the sparkling waves. Her hair, of the palest golden hue, rose and fell in the breeze, and flashed in the sunlight that rested like a glory on her bright young head. Her complexion was daz- zlingly fair, with rose-tinted cheeks, and full red lips — like wet coral — and eyes large and bright, and blue as the summer sky above her. Her figure was slight, but round and voluptuous ; and there were passion, and fervor, and wild enthusiasm in her look, as she stood like some ''tray seraph, dropped from some stray cloud on the loii is- land. Willard Drummond stood immovable, drinking in, to in- toxication, the bewildering draught of her beauty. She was in every respect so very different from Sybil, tliat she seemed to him the more charming from force of contrast. Transfixed he stood — everything forgotten but this lovely creature before him — when suddenly, like an inspiration, came the remembrance of his singular dream, and of the fatal siren with the golden hair. Strange that it should have come back to him so vividly and painfully then ! The young girl's song ceased ; and turning, she leaped lightly as a young deer from her airy perch, without per- ceiving him who stood so intently regarding her. Leap- ing from rock to rock, with a fleetness that awoke the sur- prise of Willard, she reached the road and disappeared within the cottage of Mrs. Tom. Everything was forgotten now, but the one intense de- sire of knowing m ho this radiant sea nymph was. Turn- ing, therefore, into the path she had just taken, he ap- proached the cottage and encountered Carl at the door. !l!l THE OLD LOVE AXT) THE NEW. 51 1 " Well, Master Henley, how arc you ? " said Willard, carek'ssiy. '* Htickiiirr tofrother,'* was ^faster Henley's roneiso and de.scriptivL' answer. "(ilad to hear it," said AVillard, repressiiii; a strong ineiination to lanoli. '' Is Mrs. Tom within ?" " Slie was when I let'L tho huuso," said Carl, who seenieil determined not to commit hitnself. *' Any one with her?"' a.i^ain in<|iiired the young gen- tleman, lookini,'' as iiulifTerent as possihle. '• No, nol)ody I " was the unoxp(>eted answer. '' Wiiat I " exclaimed Wilhird surprised. ** I thought I saw a yoiin;; lady enter a momcTit ago ! " <' Oh I — (.'kristie, she's nobody/' said the gallant Mr. Heidey. " Ciiristie — "NFrs. Tom's niece — I thought she was away ! '' exclaimed Willard. " So she was, but I \\ ^ut for her this morning ; couldn't he bothered doing her work and my own both, any longer," said Carl. <^ I suppose I may go in ? *' said Willard, feeling n sudden thrill of plcasur at the knowledge that this ra- diant girl was an iidnibitant of the island. " Yes, I suppose you may, if you like," said Carl, in a to7ie of the utmost unconcern. Thus kindly permitted, Willard advanced and rapped at the door. It was opened by Mrs. Tom, whose surprise was only equaled by her delight at being honored by this unexpected visit. Near the window that overlooked tho Lodge, stood the golden-haired vision of the beach. She turned round with a quick, shy glance, and blushed most enchantingly beneath the deep, dark eyes of tho stranger. '' My niece, Christie. Mr. Drummond," said ^Frs. Tom, directing his attention to her with a wave of her hand ; ''she got back this mornin'. I allers find it powerful lonesome here without Christie." " J have no doubt of it," said Mr. Drummond, seating himself; ''but I have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Christie before." "Where?" asked Christie, opening her blue eyes in wonder. ** Down on the beach a few moments ago." ^^ •i:* I 11. W: 1', 62 rv rilE QUEEX OF THE ISLE. *' Oh. yes !" And Cliristio ])liished, as she recollected liow slie had been caught singing. "Where's Mi^s Sybil and Master Guy ?" inquired Mrs. Tom. " Miss Sybil lias gone to X with tlie clergyman's family, and will not return for a week ; and Captain Campbell has gone to Westbrook, where liis vessel is un- dergoing repairs. So I am left all alone, and came to pay my respects to you." "liien you'll stay and spend the evenin' ," said Mrs. Tom, smiling comphicently. Mr. Drummond professed his willingness, and the little widow, deliglited at tlie condescension, set about prepar- ing tea instantly, assisted by Christie, whose wild, sliy ghiu'^es were bent on his face whenever siie fancied her- self unobserved. Half pleased, half afraid of liim at first, she was reserved and timi'l ; but as tliis wore off, he drew her into conversation, and, to his sui'prise, found her in- telligent and well educated. This Mrs. Tom accounted for by saying she had gone to school for the last five years at Westbrook — residing therewith tlie friend she had been now visiting. The evening passed away with the rapidity of magic. Cliristie, after mucii solicitation, consented to sing for him ; and if anything had been needed to fairly enchant him, that sweet, clear voice would liave done it. Then, too, Carl added to the general hilarity, by drawing out a rusty jews-harp, and playing a favorite tune of liis own composition. Xot once during the evening did Willard think of Sybil ; her dark, resplendent face, and ,/ild, fierce black eyes were forgotten for the golden locks and sweet, fair face of Blue-eyed Christie — this dainty island Peri. 'J'he hour for leaving came all too soon. As he rose, re- luctantly, to go, he pressed the hand Christie extended to his lips with such passionate ardor that tlie blood fluslied to her very temples, but not with displeasure. Ere he left, Mrs. Tom cordiallv invited him to visit her house while he remained on the island — an invitation he was not loth in accepting. Christie stood at the window, watching liis tall, elegant form, as he walked toward the castle in the bright, clear moonlight. THE HEART'S STRUGGLE. 5'^ " I like him, Cousin Christie, don^t you ? " said Carl, when he had gone. But Cousin Cliristie turned away witiiout reply ; long- ing to lay her burning cheek on the pillow, and muse over the new and delicious joy that was thrilling her whole heart, and in her slumber to lie dreaming '• love's young- dream.'' And Willard Drummond, forgetting his vows, forget- ting Sybil, forgetting honor, forgetting all but this lovely island maiden, sought his couch with but one uuiiie on his heart and lips, " Christie, Christie 1" CHAPTER VII. THE heart's .STRUGCtLE. " She loves, but knows not wliom she loves, Nor what his ruoe, nor whence he came ; Like one who nioets in Imlian fjroves Some beauteous bird without a name, Brout^ht by the last ambrosial breeze To show his plunuiyre for a day To wondering eyes, then wing away." —Lallah Rookh. Pale, feverish and unrefrcshed, after anight of restless dreams, Willard Drummond arose from a vision of Christie to hail a new day. Passion and principle were at war already. Bound by every pledge of love — by every vow — to Sybil, his whole soul was steeped in this new, all-absorbing passion that had taken possession of him. He had fancied he loved her, until he beheld radiant, dazzling, bewildering Chris- tie, and from that moment he could have yielded heaven for her. Every feeling of his inmost heart and soul was up in arms. Every feeling of honor bnde him fly from this intoxicating siren, whose power he felt growiiig stronger each moment over him ; but the voice of passion cried : *' Remain — love her if you will. What right has Sybil to stand between you and the heaven of your dreams ?" And, like all who allow the struggle between right jind wrong to wage its warfare in their bosom, Willard Drummond Avas lost. For, with his hot, fervid, southern nature, ivorldly considerations, former vows, reason, principle. I ! II ! 54 THE O.UEEN OF THE ISLE. r I I' ' * •;'- i i' f ' '■ A' 11 !fi. f iustice, even honor, were swept away like a wall of smoke Defore the fierce impetuosity of passion. With a head throbbing and pulse quick and feverish witli the inward conflict, Willard descended to broakiast. Captain Campbell stood in the sitting-room, awaiting hia coming. With a courteous " good morning," he advanced to meet him, but started back in surprise at beholding his extreme pallor. " My dear fellow ! " he exclaimed, in atone of solicitude, *' you are ill — very ill, I am afraid. What in the world is the matter ? '* " Notliing. I had bad dreams and did not sleep well," said Drummond, with a forced smile. *' A cup of Aunt Moll's excellent coffee will set me all right again." *' I don't know about that," said Captain Campbell, with his eyes fixed anxiously on his face. '' You are look- ing terribly feverisli, and you were comi)laining of a headache yesterday. 1 hope you are not going to be ill." *' I assure you it is nothing," said Willard, in a tone of slight impatience. ''You are needlessly alarming your- self. A bad night's rest is the cause of it all." " Well, if it is not, I will have to call up Mrs. Tom to nurse you till Sybil comes. And, by t.ie way, I regret ex- ceedingly that I shall be obliged to leave you solitary and alone tor some days. Important business, that cannot be postponed, demands my immediate attention." Willard's heart suddenly bounded — he would scarcely have acknowledged to himself the reason — at the words. *' It seems hardly courteous or liospitable to leave you thus," continued the young captain ; "but I know you will excuse me, my dear fellow, when I tell you it cannot possibly be helped. " *'0h, certainly — certainly!" interrupted Drummond, cordially. " Go, by all means. I will get along well enough in your absence. When do you leave ?" '' Immediately after breakfast. It is an affair that can- not be postponed. In fact, I will not have time even to go and see Sybil ; but as you will probably be tliere during the day, you can tell her. Perhaps you will come over to the mainland witli nie ?" ** No, I think not," said Willard, with affected careless- ness. " I may go during the course of the day." THE HEART'S STRUGGLE. ' 55 fy "But how? I will take the boat." **0h ! with Carl Henley ; he has one, I believe.' " Well, suit yourself. And now I'm off. Take care of yourself, my boy, and an revoir." '* Good-by," said AVillard, accompanying him to the door ; " Aunt Moll and I will keep bachelor's hall till you come back." Captain Guy laughed and hurried down to the beach. And, when he was gone, Willard arranged his slightly disordered dress and disheveled locks, and, sauntering out, almost mechanically took the road to the cottage. It came in sight, at last — this little quaint old house, that held all of heaven to him now. " Shall I enter — shall I thrust myself into temptation ? " was his inward thought. '' If I look again on this fairy sylph, I am lost ! " lie thought of Sybil, and her dark, bright, menacing eyes arose before him, as if to warn him back. '' For your honor's sake — for your life's sake — for your sonFs sake — go not there ! " said the threatening voice of conscience. " And have I not a right to love whom I please ? Why should I offer violence to myself in leaving this bright encliantress for that dark, wild Amazon ? Go, go and be happy," said passion. And, as if to overthrow his last good resolution, the image of Christie, radiant, dazzling and beautiful, as he had beheld her first in the bright flush of the fading sun- light, arose before him, and once again passion conquered. He approached and entered the cottage. Mrs. Tom sat near the window, spinning and singing to herself. Willard's eyes wandered around in search of an- other ; but bright Christie was not to be seen. The widow arose, smilingly, to welcome her guest, and placed a chair for him near herself. And still Willard 'a eyes went wandering around the room. ''She will appear presently," bethought, not yet liking to inquire for her. " What a venerable-looking affair your wheel is, Mrs. To!n," he said, surveying it, with its hard polished wood, and bright brass rings. '' Yes ; it's as old as the hills," said Mrs. Tom, resum- ing her work ; " and's been in our family since the flood. 'I I' % 1 1 t 1 1 I! ' f 56 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. 1 think 1 spun on that there wheel all the yarn that makes the socks, mittens and comforters for half the county round ; besides making sheets, blankets and lots of other tilings for ourselves," said Mrs. Tom, with conscious pride. '^ You deserve a premium for industry, Mrs. Tom," said Willard. ** Well, you may be jokin' now, and 1 dare say you are ; bui; it's true, for all that. Many a true word is spoke in jest, you know," said Mrs. Tom, as her wheel went mer- rily round. " There ain't many women in this place, o' my age and means, can do, or does do more work than me, though I say it as liadn't oughter. I knit, and spin, and sew, wash, brew, bake, sow, and reap, and fifty other things too numerous to mention, besides. Carl, if I go up there, I'll put an end to your lazin\ you idle, good-for- nothing vagabone, you !" she added, ])reaking off in sud- den wrath, as she espied Carl leaning on the spade with which he sliould have been digging in tlie garden. **You should make Carl do these tilings, ]\lrs. Tom,^ said Willard, still impatiently watching tlie door, and wondering Avhy Christie did not come. *^ Carl ?" said Mrs. Tom, with a sliort laugh. '' Lor'- a-massey ! he ain't worth his salt ; that there's the laziest, most worthless young scapegoat ever any living 'oman was plagued with. I hain't a minute's peace with him night nor day ; and if scolding was a mite of good, the Lord knows he might have been a saint by this time, for he gets enough of it." AVillard laughed. And in such conversation tlie morn- ing slipped away — very rapidly to ]\[rs. Tom, but each moment an age to our impatient lover. For Christie w;is absent still ; and a strange reluctance, for wliicli he could not account, still prevented Willard from asking for her. It was an inward sense of guilt that troubled liiin ; for, feeling toward her as he did, he felt he had no riglit even to mention her name. At last, as in despair he arose to go, Mrs. Tom relieved his mind. '' Christie will be disappointed at not seeing you," said the old lady, following him out ; " she went out berrying to the woods this morning, jind hain't got home yet." Willard started at the inforiuation ; and inwardly curs- ing the folly that had detained him so many hours talking THE HEART'S STRUGGLE. 57 to a foolish old woman, he darted off, with a rapidity that quite amazed Mrs. Tom, in the direction of the pine woods. '* VVliat a confounded fool I have been ! " he exclaimed, savage!-', *' to stay tliere listening to the way to make butter, and flannel, and ' yarb tea,' as if the old beldame thought I was going to be somebody's housekeeper, or a female doctross ; and all the time this enchanting little blue-eyed witch was wandering alone, by herself. What an opportuni!:y I have lost ! and now I suppose I may searcii for an hour and not find her." He turned iwi abrupt angle in the winding path, and stilled a suchlen oxchimation of surprise and delight. For thei'c before liim, reclining on the grass, with half veiled eyes and soft, musing smile, sat the object of all his thoughts, wishes and desires. He paused for a moment to contemplate the picture be- fore him ; for if (Miristie had seemed beautiful when he iirst beheld her, oh ! doubly lovely did she appear now in lier attitude of unstudied grace. Her dress was a loose, light muslin robe, fitting to per- fe(;tion her rounded waist and swelling bust. Her straw hat lay on the ground beside her; and her golden, sun- shiny hair lloated, with all its wealth of rippling ringlets, round her ivory throat. How dazzlini>iv fair hooked that smooth, snowy brow, contrasted with the full, crimson lips and delicately flushed cheeks — iiow enchanting the long, curved lashes, falling over the deep blue, loving eyes — how beautiful that faultless form, that soft, gentle, li;i,ppy smile of guileless girlhood. Wilhird Drummomrs bi'eath came and went, quick and shoi-t, as he gazed, and his dark eyes filled with a subdued lire. He advanced toward her. His shadow falling on the grass at her feet wus the first token she had of his coming. With a quick, startled cry, she spriing to her feet in ter- ror ; but when she saw who it was that stood before her, she stopped short, while the color lluslied gloriously to her roundeil cheeks. Her first impression was : lie has read my thoughts in my face, and knows I was thinking of him. " Have 1 disturbed you, bright Christie ?" he asked, coming nearer. urs- *' Oh, no i " she answered, blushingly. *•! was only T/aiting to rest a little while before going home." r ^ I' I' It- I '2 as THE QUEEK OF THE ISLE. I ^ " And dreaming, I pi*rceived," said Willard ; *' may I ask of what — of whom ? " *' I wasn't dreaming," said Christie, innocently. *^I was wide-awake all the time." '* Daj-c'roaming, 1 mean," said Drummond, with a smile. "Do you know, fairest Christie, I have been at your cottage all the morning, waiting to see you ?" *' To see me ?*' said Christie, with another quick, glad blush. '^ And not finding you there, I have come in search of you," he continued. "And found me," she said, laughing. *' If I had known you were coming, I should have stayed at home." " Perhaps it is better as it is, bright one ; for I have found you alone. It is very pleasant to have found so fair a companion oti this lonely isle." "Yes, it is a lonely place," said Chris^'e, musingly; "and yet I like it better than Westbrook, or any other place I have ever been in. Only I would like always to have a friend with me to talk to ; and that, you know, I cannot have here. Aunt Tom is always too busy to go out ; and Carl don't care about the trouble of talking, much less that of walking, so I always have to go alone." "And if he would go, I fancy Master Carl is hardly the kind of companion Miss Christie would select," said Wil- lard. " Not if I could find any better," said Christie, with a laugh ; " but I have grown so accustomed to being alone, now, that I do not mind it at all, as I used to." " And so you are perfectly happy here, fairest Christie, reigning queen of this fairy isle ? " "Ah, no! beautiful Miss Sybil is queen of the isle. I am only her most loyal subject," said Christie, gaily ; " you ought to know that, having paid her your alleg- iance. " " AVhat if I should say that the subject was more lovely than the queen ?" said Willard, in a low voice, and in a tone that brought the hot blood flushing to Christie's face. " I sliould say you were laughing at me, as, of course, you would be. Certainly, no one would ever think of me while Miss Sybil was near. Oh ! how I wish she would always stay here, and then I would have a companion." THE HEART'S STRUGGLE. 59 it ?) if ourse, of me would ion." "Ah, bright one ! if I were in her place, what would I not surrender for such a privilege ! " 'MVould you ?" siiid Christie, looking at him in un- feigned surprise ; '' then why not stay ? I am sure I should be glad to have you here always." Tier innocent words, her enticing beauty, her childlike candor were a strong temptation. For one moment he was about to fall before her, to clasp her in his arms, to hold her there forever, while he breathed forth his mad, passionate love, and told her nothing on earth should ever part them now. But again rose up before him the dark, warning face of Sybil to allay the fever in his blood. It seemed to him he could see her black, fierce eyes gleaming on them through the trees — he could almost hear her voice, shouting — " Traitor ! " All unconscious of tlie struggle raging in his breast, Christie stood leaning against a tree, her curved crimson lips half parted — her blue eyes fixed on a cloud, drifting slowly over the sky, little dreaming of the far darker clouds gathering rapidly, now, over the horizon of her life. And still in Willard's heart went on the struggle. lie dared not look at her as she stood before him — bright, radiant, bewildering — lest the last lingering remains of fidelity and honor should be swept away by the tierce im- petuosity of passion in his unstable heart. But his good angel was in the ascendant still, for at that moment the voice of Carl was heard calling, loudly : '^Christie ! Christie !" " Here, Carl ! Here I am," she answered ; and in an- otliei instant, honest Carl stood before thcin. " Aunt Tom sent me looking for you," said the young gentleman, rather sulkily; '-'and I've been tramping through the woods this half hour, while you were taking it easy here," said Carl, wiping the perspiration from his hot brow. " It was all my fault, my good Carl," said Willard, as Christie hastily snatclied up her hat and basket and fled, having a j\u.t terror of ^[rs. Tom's sharp tongue. *' Make my excuses to your good aunt, and here is something for yourself." Carl's dull face brightened wonderfully as Willard drew a gold piece from his pocket and pressed it into his hand, 60 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. and then turned hid steps slowly in tlie direction of Camp- bell Castle, thinking all earthly happiness lay centered ia the opposite direction. Mrs. Tom's reproaches fell unheeded, for tlie first time, on Christie's ear that day. She heard not a word of the long lecture delivered with more tiian the good widow's usual eloquence ; for she was thinking of another voice, whose lowest tone had power already to thrill to the in- nermost recesses of her heart. She loved without know- ing it, without wishing to define the new, delicious feel- ing filling her breast, only conscious she had never been so happy before in her life, and longing for the time when she should see him again. Ah ! well had it been for her had they never met more. CHAPTER VIII. THE TlllUMI'II OF PASSION". •' All other passions have their hour of thinking, And hear the voice of reason. This alone Sweeps the soul iu tempests ! " n " Well,'' said Aunt Moll, to her son and heir, Lem, as he entered the long, high kitchen of Campbell's Lodge. ** 1 would like ter know what dat ar Master Drummin's up ter ? I doesn't understan' dese yer new-fangled young men 'tall. Fust he comes a-courtin' of our Miss Sybil, and jes' as soon as her back's turned, he goes rite off an' takes up wid dat ar Miss Chrissy. " ^''Tain't no business your'n, ole woman," said Lem, gruffly. " I 'spec's as how Marse Drummin' knows what he's about." *^ Yes, honey ; but 'pears to me I ought to tell Miss Sybil 'bout it. Ef he is her beau, he oughtn't to be takin' up wid dat ar Miss Chrissy." *M^etter let Miss Svbil look arter her own beau," re- plied her dutiful son. '* How does ye know he's a-courtin' Miss Chrissy ? " " 'Cause I seed dem, chile — yes, I did — las' night, down on de shore. De moon was sliinin' jes' as bright as a new pan, an' I took dat ar litter o' kittens down to de shore to Urown dem, wlien I seed Marse Drummin' a-walkin' along THE TRIUMPH OF PA8SI0X. Gl an jy down a new ore to along M wid Miss Chri.ssy, aiul lio had his head st()0])ed down, jes' so ■' — and Aunt Moll ducki-d hor woolly head to illustrate it — "an' was whispcrin' soft stuff, jes' as folks do when dey'ro in love." '" Well, what don ? '' asked rioni, ;xrowinj^ interested. *^ Well, dey come up an' seed ine, in eoui'se, an' lor', lor ! I jos' wish you seed de look Marse Drunimin' f]i;ive nie. Toared as ef he'd 'a' liked to knijcked my ole head oiT. l^iit I warn't afeared, 'deed I wa'n't, chile ; so I jes' stood still and drapped a curtsey, an' Miss Chrissy she got red rite up to de roots oh her hair. ' (iood evenin', marse and young miss,' sez 1 ; 'dc n't he skeered ; I only wants to drown deso 'ere little kitLcns,' sez I, for I thought as I might he perlite, jes' as well as not. *' ' Oh, how does yer do, Aunt Moll ? ' sez Miss Chrissy, a-laughing' and blushin' ; * how is Lem and yer rheumatiz, dese times ? ' " ' T'a!ik you, honey,' sez I, ' dey's pretty well, bof ob dem.^ An' den Marse Drummin' ho pulled her arm rite troo his'n, and marched her off wid him ; an' den I pitched de kittens rite in de water an' come home." " Well, dat ar warn't much," said the skeptical Lem. " Dey might bo walkin' on de beach but dat ain't by no means courtin'. Marse Drummin' walks wid her 'cause Miss Sybil's gone, an he ain't got nobody else to talk to." '•^ 'Cisely so, 'diile ; but dat ain't all ; " said Aunt Moll. ** Dis berry morning, as I was passin' troo de hall, de sit- tin'-room door was open, and I heered voices a-talkin' dere ; so I listened and peeked in, an' dar was Marse Drummin', rampin' up and down, a-talking' to hisself." "Well, dat ain't nothin', either,'' said the still contra- dictory Lem. " I've hearn dat ar Carl talk to hisself, when Miss Tom sent him out to work, an' he ain't in love wid no one." " But listen, honey, and don't you be puttin' me out so, 'cause 'tain't 'spectf ul — 'deed it ain't," said Aunt Moll, getting slightly indignant. " As I was sayin', I clapt my ear to de door, an' I heered him savin' jes' as plain as nothin' 'tall — ' Oh, dischanting, onwildering Chrissy ! ef I had nebber met you, I miglit yet be happy ! ' Dar, what he say dat for, ef he wa'nt in lub ? " This last was a settler. Lem felt that his mother had the best of the argument, and unwilling to seem defeated, I '^ i; 'I If ll f 1: f ;1 f 63 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. lie went out, leaving tlie old lady to enjoy her triumph iin- in term J) ted. Three days had f)assed since the departure of Sybil, and certainly Willard's conduct seemed to juslily Aunt Moll's suspicions. Unable to l)reak tiie tlirall wliieii bound him, wishing, yet unable to tly from the spell o( the enchantress, he lingered still by her side. 'I'here were shame, dishonor, sin, in remaining ; but oh ! there were death, misery and desolation in going All worldly considerations, her un- known birth, her obscure connections, her lowly rank, were swe[)t away like wtdls of cobweb before the tierce tor- rent of passion that overwhelmed, conquered every other feeling in its impetuous tide. And she loved him, this angel of beauty, this fairy princess of the isle — he could see it in the quick flush of joy at his approach, the quick, burning glances shot from her beautiful eyes, more quickly averted when ti)ey met his — her low impassioned tones, her bright, beautiful blushes. There was joy ; there was rapture in tho thought ; and yet, unless he forgot honor, vows, all that should have been sacred, what did this love avail ? And so, like a tempest-tossed bark on a tempest-tossed sea, he strove with passion and honor, love and remorse, right and wrong. Once only, fearing lest her suspicions might be aroused by his absence, he liad visited Sybil, whose rapturous greeting and confiding love made him feel far more of a villain than ever. He looked forward with dread to the period of her return, fearing for the discovery of his falsity ; but, more than all, fearing for the effects of he:* fierce wrath on Christie, knowing well what must be the strength of Sybil's lion passions when nnchained. And so, when Mrs. Brantwell proposed that Sybil slionld remain with her another week, instead of returning to the dreary isle, instead of feeling irritated now, he backed the proposal, saying that perhaps it would be better for her to do so, more especially during her brother's absence. And Sybil, in her deep love and woman's trust, sus- pecting nothing, fearing nothing, consented, to the inward joy and sincere relief of her false lover. Resolving to visit her frequently, and so allay any sus- picions that his absence might give rise to, Willard Drum- mond returned to the island and to— Christie, yielding i .0 THE TRIUMPH OF PASSIOX. 63 \ iHsed rou3 of a io t]\e •f his i her le the lionld ^0 the bcked ^r for seiice. sus- iward |y sus- irum- jlding liimself witliout furtlier eifort to the witching spoil of he? love. Mrs. Tom suspected notliiiig of tlie coiitniband courting carried on under hor very eyes. It was the most nuLunil tiling in the world, she th()iii;lit, that, in the ulLsi'iice of Sybil and Jier brother, the young man shonhl spend whole days witli them ; for it was not pleasiint having no one to talk to but a couple of negroes, as slie very well knew. Then it was not to be wondered at that lie preferred talk- ing and walking with Christie to any of the rest ; for she was *' book Tarned," like himself, which neilhcr she nor Carl was. She did wonder a little, sometimes, and said as much to Christie, why he should stay on the island at all in the absence of the other. "But I si'ppose," was always her conclusion, ^Mt'a because its Miss Sybil's home, and for her sake ho stays there until she comes." But Christie, though she only blushed and was silent, was of a different opinion — one that she would scarcely own to her own heart. As to his being in love with Chris- tie, Mrs. Tom would have scouted the idea with scorn and unbelief, had she heard it. Every circumstance was gainst such a conclusion. Ue was rich, highly connected, and proud as a prince of the blood ; she was poor, un- known, and, compared with him, uneducated, liosides, in the good widow's opinion, she was a child in feeling, as she certainly was in years, scarcely knowing the mean- ing of the word love. Ah ! she had been till he came, and his fervid, impas- sioned words, his burning glances, his thrilling touch had swept away the glamour of childhood and simplicity and revealed to her the passionate woman's heart within her. His words, his looks, his tones were all new revelations to the artless island maiden — changing lier, as if by magic, from a child to a woman. She revered him as the em- bodiment of all that was brave, generous and noble ; worshiped him as a god, and loved him with all the atfection of her fresh young heart, with all the ardor of a first deep love. As yet she know not whether that love was returned ; for, unfaithful as he was in thought to Sybil, passion liad not yet so totally conquered his reason as to make him sin iu words. He liad never said, *' Christie, I love you;*' ■i 64 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. !i i !' ii but ah I how often had Lis eyes said this and mnch more ; and how long would even this slight barrier stand before the fiery impetuosity of unstable youth ? And so that day i)assed, and the next, and the next, and the next ; Jiiul with every passing hour the temptation grew stronger and harder to be resisted. Matters must come to a crisis now or never. Sybil, in a day or two, would be home, and this wild frenzy of his could be hidden no longer. H she should come, as matters stood now, all v.ould be lost. And thus, torn between conflicting emotions, Willard sought Christie on the day before Sybil was expected home, with the determination of bringing this struggle to an end then and there. It was a glorious August afternoon. The island wore its brightest dress of green, and nestled in the blue shin- ing river like an emerald set in sapphire. The birds in the deep pine forest were filling the air with their melody, and the odor of the wild roses came floating softly on the summer breeze. But Willard Drummoud was in no mood to admire the beauties of nature. The morning had been spent in pacing up and down his room hesitating, resolving, doubting, wishing, yet undecided still. For when duty and principle would appear for a moment victorious, the waving, golden liair, the blue, beautiful eyes and gentle, loving face of Christie would rise before him, scattering all his good resolutions to the winds. And mingled with this there was a sort of superstitious foreboding of evil to come. He thought of his dream, and of the yellow-haired siren luring him on to destruction ; and of Sybil, fiery daughter of a fiery race, fierce, vindictive and implacable in her wrongs. *' Oh, that I had never met this dark, passionate girl !" he murmured, distractedly, " who now stands between me and the heaven of my dreams ; or would that I had seen this beautiful, enchanting Christie first ! Oh, for that angel as my wife ! And but for those fatal vows once made to Sybil, she might be mine. I was mad, crazed, to mistake my fancy for that dark, wild-eyed girl for love ! And now, for that one mistake, am I to be wretched for life ? Shall I gave up this beautiful, radiant creature who loves me for one I care for no longer ? No; the struggle THE TRIUMPH OF PASSION. 65 ore ; 3fore next, ation must \rould 111 no V, all illurd jected 'uggle wore 5 sliiu- rds in lelody, on the admire spent olving, duty us, the gentle, ttering d with evil to haired I, fiery lacable girl!" |)etween I had )h, for ^s once ized, to pr love ! Ihed for lire who Struggle is past. Christie sliiiU be my bride, and I will brave tlie worst tliat may follow ! '' Ho set his teeth iiard, and, as if fearing second reflection might make him change his mind, he left the house and hurried out to meet Christie. Down on the shore, under the shade of an overhanging willow, he knew Christie had a favorite seat, wiiure, on pleasant days, she used to take iiur work. Here lie was sure of finding her, and in that direction he bent his steps. She sat sewing under tlic shade of tlie drooping willow, singing softly to herself, and looking like some sylvan god- dess of a sylvan s(M3ne ! or some beautiful sea-nymph just risen from her grotto of coral and crysttd. Radiant and bewildering were the smile and blush M'ith which she welcomed him — a smile and blush that might have been found too strong even for more jjotent princi])lcs than his. He seated himself beside her with a look of moody abstraction, all unusual -.vith him, watching her covertly from under his eyelashes as she bent smiling and happy over her work. For a time Christie chatted gayly on various common- place matters, but at last, catching her tone from his, she, too, grew silent and thoughtful. She bent lower over her work, wondering if she had olfended him, and involun- tarily sighed. He heard it and said : *' And wherefore that sigh, Christie ? Are you un- happy ? " " No, not unhappy ; but troubled." "And why should you be troubled, bright one ? What can there be to grieve one so fair ? " *'I — I — feared I had offended you/' she answered, timidly. " You appear out of spirits.*' *' You offend me, gentle one — you, who never offended any one in your life ? No, no ; it is not that." " Then you are unhappy," she said, shyly. *' Yes ; I am miserable — wretched ! " he cried, vehe- mently. *' I wish to heaven I had never been born ! " '* ! Mr. Drummond, what has happened ? " she cried, laying her hand on his and looking up wistfully in his face. i'. "Il .■ i i n ' I. 66 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. Iler touch, lier tone, lior look, swept away every re- nuiining trace of fidelity, lie forgot everything lie sliould liave remembered — his vows, his honor, his truth — and saw nothing but tlie briglit, radiiint, bewildering vision before him. In an instant he was on his knoes at her feet, exclaiming, with impassioned vehemence ; '' Chrisue ! C'luistie ! my life, my dream, my liope, I love you. See, I am at your feet, where my heart, my name, my fortune long have been. AVitli my whole heart und soul and lifi; and being, I love you with a love stronger than d(^utli or the grave. All tlie devotion and hopes of my life I offer vou, if you can only say you love me." lie was ])ale{ind panting ; his eyes were lierceand burn- ing ; his tones low, thrilling and passionate. Trembling, slirinking, blushing, yet with a deep, in- tense, fervent joy tlirilling througii all her heart and being, Cliristie listened. The blood swept in torrents to her face, neck and bosom, wliieh rose and fell with her ra})id breathing. Slie dared not look up to meet his ardent, burning gaze. " Christie, Christie ! niy love, ray life ! look up — speak — answer me — tell me tliat you love me ! '' Still no reply, only those downcast eyes^ d^^epest blushes and (piick, hurried breathing. "^ Si)eak ! s})eak ! my beautiful love I only one word from those sweet lips, but one touch ot your dear hand to tell me I may live ! " ho cried, growing more wild and im- passioned. With a low, glad cry of intense iov she buried her blush- mg face on liis shoulder. ** Thanks I my heart's tlninks for this, sweetest, love- liest Christie I" he cried, with exultant joy, pressing her yielding form to liis bouiiding he;iit. '• My life, with all its hopes, energies and ambitions, shall be devoted to but one purpose now — that of rewar(iing you for your price- less love." "Oh! Mr. Drunimond, your love is all the reward I ask ! " she said, m the deep, t^arnest voice of perfect trust. " Not Mr. Drunimond now, sweetest CliTistie. I am Willard to you now and forever. Let me always hear that rnime in music from your lips, and earth has no higher boon in store for me.'' % THE TRIUMPH OF TASSIOX. 67 , lovc- Hg her to but price- Iward I trust. 1 am hiir that higher M *'V>\\t, oh I can you love me tlius — me, a poor, litflo, nameless, uncultured girl, while you are rieh, distin- guished and higldy eonneeted ? Oh I Willard, will you not some day repent this choice — you who might win the highest aiul fairest in the land ? '' "■ Iicpcnt ? Never ! never I Perish my heart if it ever admit of any love hut thine ; palsied be my arm if it ever encircle any form but this ; accursed be my li})S if they ever perjure the words I have spoken now ; lost forever be my soul when it is false to thee !^' he cried, with passion- ate vehemence. ** Oh ! Willard, dearest, liush ! I do not doubt you— heaven forbid ! 1 should die if I thought you could be false to inc." " Speak not of death ; it is not for such as you, bright, beautiful Chr'stie. And now only one thing is wanting to make me the happiest of men." She lifted her radiant face with a look of earnest inquiry. " Christie, one little word from you, and ere the sun rises on another day my joy will be complete — my cup of earthly hap})iness will be tilled to the brim." Still the same earnest, anxious gaze. *' Dearest love, you will not refuse ? It will be but a small matter to you, and will make me supremely blessed." '• And that ? "' she inquired, Avonderingly. " Brightest Christie, be my bride — my wife ! " he cried, folding her closer in his arms and speaking in a thrilling whisper. Again the eloquent blood swept 'ver her stainless neck and bosom, but she did not reply. '' You will not refuse me, my own Christie, this last greatest favor ? Comply now — to-day, for if the present op})ortunity passes it may never occur again." *' ]5ut how — how can we be wedded here ? " she said, shyly, lifting her eyes to his impiissioned ones and drop- ping them in brightest blushes. " Christie, yonder lies a boat ; it is three hours to sun- set ; long before that time we can reach Westport ; there we can find a clergyman, and there you can become my own for life I " " Bnt it is soon — so sudden," she faltered ; ''and Aunt Tom— she will never consent." m fr; ": ' ■! I 1^ 68 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. yy *' She would not consent anyway, fairest Christie. She would say you were too young — too fur in social position beneath me. Slie would not believe my intentions honor- able. In sliort, dearest, she would raise a thousand ob- jections, and the end would be that we would be parted forever." *'01i ! Willard, it would not be so bad as that; if you explained it all to her 1 think she would consent. Aunt Tom is good and kind, and loves me and would do any- thing to make me happy." " That may be, brightest Christie ; but that very love she has for you, and her wish to make you liappy, would cause her to hesitate. For she would repeat the old, senseless saying : ' Marry in haste and repent at leisure,' and think the best way to make us both happy would be to postpone our marriage for years to come." " But this secret marriage, it seems wrong, sinful. Oh ! Willard, my soul revolts from it ! If I could only tell Aunt Tom ! " cried Christie, imploringly. ''When the proper time comes, dearest love, she shall know, and all the world shall behold my beautiful bride. But until then you must have confidence in me and wait. " But, oh ! I have such a presentiment of what may follow, Willard — such a cloud seems to enshroud this secret marriage that my very soul shrinks from it in fear." " Christie," he said, drawing back, and speaking in a deeply offended tone, "you do not love me ! " She raised her bright, beautiful eyes, so full of love and devotion, but did not speak. Ko words could have told such a tale of perfect, intense love as did that quick, eloquent glance. " You do not love me ! " he went on, in the same deeply hurl tone ; " you have no confidence in me, no trust, no faith. I have given you my reasons, good and valid to any one else, but of no avail with you. If you cared for me you would consent to wait with perfect trust in my love ; but I see you will not trust me. Be it so ; there remains nothing for me to do but to leave you forever." " Oh ! Willard ! " was all she could say, as her voice was choked in tears. " I thought I had found an artless, loving, trusting girl," he went ou, with increased bitterness ; " but 1 have s ^: THE VISIOX OF THE ISLE. 09 this t in in a found one who will not yield in the slightest iota lest she compromise herself in Lhc eyes of the world, who fears what it will say of her more than she loves me. Farewell, Christie I we have met for the last time. Since you care for vour aunt more than me, I leave vou to her." He arose coldly and hauglitily to go. '' Oh, Willard ! do not leave me ! '' was her passionate cry. " I will do anything, be anything, you ask, only do not leave me in anger ! " ^MVill you be my wife ?" " Yes f" " To-n'ight ? " " Oh, yes ; to-night and forever ! " '•' ]\[y own gentle love!" he whispered, pressing her fondly in his arms, "will you go and get ready, and re- turn to me hero in a quarter of an hour ? " " But what shall I sav to Aunt Tom — how account for my absence ? " " Leave that to me, dearest. Li a few minutes I will follow you to the cottage and ask her to let you take a sail with me on the river by moonlight ; she will not re- fuse me." "As you will," said Christie, turning toward her home, while Willard — triumphant, exulting and dizzy with joy — descended to the beach to prepare the boat. CHAPTER IX. eeply t, no lid to d for TTIE VISIOX OF THE ISLE. *' But soft ; behold ! lo, there it conies afrain ! I'll cross it. though it blast iii<'. Stay, illusion 1 If thou hast any sound, or use a voice. Speak to me ! " TIAMLET Fickle fortuiu^, that often favors the wrong and erring, certainly smiled on the lovers that day. For scarcely liad Christie entered the house when Mrs. Tom came bustling out, in deep distress, saying, in heart-rending toiu's : " What is to be done ? This five-and-forty year, rain or shine, Fve had a cuj) o' tea for breakfast ; and now there ain't a grain in the house. I jest know, as well as i:r fH I •yo THE QUEEN OP THE ISLE. if somebody told me, that I won't be fit for iiothin' to- morrow, when I ain't got a cup o' tea for my breakfast ; and tliere's no u.se tryin' to nnike tliat there good-for- iiothin' Carl go for any to-niglit. It allei-H was my luck to liave tlie most dreadfiilo.st bad luck, but I never thouglit things wouhl come to sicli a pass as this. Scat ! you hussy ! '' And Mrs. Tom gave tlie cat a kick, which wa3 her usual way of winding up an address. *' Aunt Tom," said Christie, ^' let me go." *^ You ! Are you crazy ? IIow are you goin' to go .'* " *^ ]\Ir. Drummond is going over to Westport this eve- ning, and lie wanted me to go with him/' said Cliristie, turning away to hide a rising blush. ''I can easily get it there." " So you can," said IMrs. Tom, considering, '^ but will Mr. Drummond return early ?" *' Yes," said Cliristie ; " he lias .some slight business to transact, and then he is coming imniedijitely liomc. The sail will be jdeasant by moonlight, and I'd like to go." " Well, go then ; and don't be gone any longer than you can help. Cet two poun's of hyson at 3Ir. Ginger's." *' Yes, ma'am," said Christie, taking the money and putting on her hat and shawl in a trembling, agitated sort of way that at any otiier time !!\[rs. Tom must have noticed. She hurried out, and on her way met Willard coming up to the house. '* Well, has Mrs. Tom given you permission ? " he usked, in pleased surprise. Christie related her errand. ^'' The gods favor us " he cried, gaily. '•' See, Christie ! the sun is api)roacliing the west, and before it dies out of tlie sky you will be what heaven lias destined you for — my wife ! " '' And to be that for an hour is bliss enough to re})ay a whole life of misery," she said, with heartfelt earnestness. ^^ With Tny own Christie ! Will I ever be able to re])ay you for this grace, this greatest eartldy blessing that heaven could bestow upon me ?" he said, fervently. " The knowledge of your love more than repays me ; for I have made no sacrifice," she said in a low tone. They had no\v reached the boat. He handed her in, pushed olf the boat, took the oars and rowed away. But other eyes they dreamed not of were upon them. I I ■I I I J) he tiiess. tluit me ; »r in, Dliem. THE VISION OF THE ISLE. 71 Erom one of the windows of tlie high cliamhers of Camp- bell's Lodge Aunt ^loll and her son Lem wore taking ob- servations. *' Dar dcy go ! — off a sailin*. What will ]\[iss Sybil say to dat ? " observed the scandalized and indignant Aunfc Moll. 'Mioin' out sailin' doesn't signify nothin'. Dey young gemblum wants somebody to talk to as ho rows." ^' 'Tain't right," said Aunt Moll, with an oracular shake of her head; "dar's sumfin wrong, somewhere. Don't b'lieve ^liss Sibyl would 'prove of it, nohow ; dese yer young men ain't to be trusted, nowadays." '^ It's nat'ral, Marse Drummin' would get tired o' one gal — mos' young men do — and take up wid annoder, for a change. I'd do it myself," concluded Lem, in a pom])ous tone. " You woukl ! " said his mother, in high dudgeon ; '' as if any gal 'd look at you, you brack fool ! Marnc Drummin' will get hisself inter [i hornets' nest, if lie trilles wid de 'fections ob Miss Sybil. I's come to de di- clusion to conform Miss Sybil ob his goings-on, soon ag ebber she arrives. Dar ! " And having thus settled the matter to her own entire satisfaction, Aunt Moll descended to the kitchen and soon forgot all sublunarv thinofs in the celestial bliss of smoking a short, dirty pipe, as black and stumpy as herself. Meantime the erring young pair were swiftly skimming over the bright waters in the direction of Westport. The labor of rowing precluded the possibility of conversation, and both were silent and thoughtful. Urged on bv his intense desire of completing what he had so successfully begun — urged on, perhaps, by fate, the boat seemed fairly to fly over the sparkling, suTi-bright waves. Ere the last ray of sunlight had faded from the sky the boat touched the opposite shore ; and, drawing Christie's arm within his own. Willard set o.f rapidly in the direc- tion of the town of Westport. And, having reached it. he led Christie in the direction of a little, obscure Methodist chapel, while he loft her to seek for a license and the clergvman. in a short time he returned with both. Without un- necessary inquiries the clergyman hastened through tiie marriage ceremony, and in a few moments the passion- ir : j! 1^ I j!' '• il .n THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. blinded young couple were man and wife. Then, hastily paying the clergyman his fee, AVillard led his bride from the church. " My bride ! my wife ! my own forever now ! " lie cried, with sudden, passion ate exultation, folding her to his heart. JUit just then, with a sharp, piercing cry of thrilling horror, Christie sprang back, frightfully pale — with di- hiting eyes and choking breath, gasping, stifling, suffoca- ting. '' In the name of heaven, what is the matter, my own Christie ?" he cried, in wonder and alarm. But, pressing her hands over her heart, she sank dizzily on the churcli steps, pale, gasping, trembling, horror- stricken still. "Christie! Christie! dearest love! what is it?" he said, anxiously, encircling her with his arm. " Oh ! the doom — the doom ! " she said, shudderingly, hiding her face in his arm. " What doom ? Of what are you speaking, sweet wife ? " he inquired, in increasing anxiety. She rose now, and passed her hand over her brow, as if to clear away a mist. Then, seeing liis pale, troubled face, she recovered herself and forced a smile. " Dearest Christie, what was it ?" he anxiouslv asked. " Oh, Willard ! you will laugh at me ! but I felt it ail, I saw it all so plainly," she said, in a weeping voice. " Saw what — felt what ? I do not understand," he said puzzled by her look and words. '* Those eyes I those eyes ! and that fierce grasp on my throat, and the keen knife ! Ah, heaven ! I feel it jet." And she shuddered convulsively. " Are you raving, Christie ? In heaven's name, what eyes, what knife, are you speaking of?" he said, begin- ning to think she had lost her reason. "Oh, Willard ! Willard ! just as you folded me in your arms and called nio your wife, Sybil Campbell's tierce, wild, black eyes arose before me, glaring on me like burn- ing coals, and then I felt two strong hands clutch my throat and a knife plunged into my breast ! 0, saints in heaven ! it rises before me yet ! " "Christie, you are mad!" he said, vehemently; but the ashen paleness that overspread his face told the sud- den shock the name of Sybil had given him. I THE VISION OF THE ISLE. 73 'hat jrce, luni- iiiy Is ill but Isud- I In all the terror, horror and momentary frenzy of that instant, tlie fear of his displeasure eon(|uered every otlior feeling in her breast. Siiaking oif, witli an effort, the creeping dread that was palsying every nerve, she clung to his arm with renewed contidence, and said, with a deep bre.'ith of relief : '^ I believe I was, for the moment, Willard ; but that has passed now. You are not angry with me, dearest AVillard ?" she said, anxiously, observing the cloud tluit still overspread his fine face. ** Angry ? Xot at all," he said, gravely. ^*Only »,orry and surprised to think you should give way to such ex- traordinary delusions." '' Oh, Wilhird ! it was not a delusion ! I saw it all as plainly iis I see you now. Oh, those dreadful, dreadful eyes ! they will haunt me to my dying day I '' " Do not think of it again, my own love, and do not look so wild," he said sootliingly. " Come, let us be going ; the moon will soon rise, and it will be late before we reach the isle." *'And Aunt Tom will be anxious," said Christie. *'And that reminds me of her commission, which 1 had nearly forgotten. When wc reach the store, you can wait outside. 1 will join you in a moment." The moon was just rising when they set sail for the isle, which Christie had left a child ami to which she was re- turning a wife. Ah I where was their better angel in that dark moment of nuidness and temptation ? The soft, bright moonlight was lighting up the isle with its calm, pale rays when they reuched it. The cry of the whippoorwill and katydid from the neighboring forest mingled with the soft, dreamy murmur of the waves on the shore, is the sweetest music that ever was heard. Tempted by the beauty of the night, our lovers pro- longed their sti'oll over the beach. At length, as it began to grow late, Christie, fearing Mrs. Tom or Carl might come out to watch for her coming, persuaded Willard to let her return. They walked up the rocky, romantic path, whispering those low and often foolish things so sweet to lovers' ears when coming from the lips of the loved one. A light still twinkled in the widow's cottage, casting a long, thin line of yellov/ light far over the lonely road. But no other 74 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. I' sifjrn cl life was visible. Christie's ))lne eves were bent on the groiiiul, und Wi I lard's stately bead was bent above ber, when su(blenly, looking up, be bebekl u sight whieb froze the blood in bis veins. P'rom the dai'k, mystic pine woods a white-robed fiirnro came floating toward them. One glance sufiiced to tell liiin it was the strange vision that had bent over him ji few nights before. There were the same hollow, rayless eyes, the s;ime wild, sti'eaming black hair, the same gliastly, corpse-like face, with its fixed look of unutterable woe. It was coming stcnidily toward them, tbis awful phan- tom. Willard stood fixed, rooted to the ground, gazing as if fascirnited on the appalling specter. His next thougbt was for Christie. He glanced toward ber to see lier face blanched to the hue of death, her eyes dilating in horror, fixed, frozen, unable to speak a word, one band raised, and one flickering linger pointing to tbe dread being approaching. Neither could move nor speak. Still tbe phantom floated on until it stood before them, face to face. For an instant it paused, with its hollow eyes glaring npon them ; then, with an awful cry of " ^lurdered ! Mur- dered ! " that pealed through the dim old woods, it threw np both its arms, and with a shrill, piercing, agonizing sbriek, fled away and was bidden among the beetling rocks. Tbe hand that grasped Willard's arm was growing weaker and weaker ; there was a low moan, and he turned in time to catch the senseless form of his child-wife in his arms. The wild, unearthly scream had startled Mrs. Tom. Alarmed and wondering, she cautiously opened the door and went out. And there she saw Willard Drummond with the senseless form of Christie in his arms. ONE OF FORTUNE'S SMILES. 75 CHAPTER X. ?\ lid ONE OF FORTUNE S SMILES. Captain Guy Campbell sat in the parlor of tlie *' WesLbi'ook House," as the Ihimiiig, gilt signboard aii- iiouuced, his heels elevated on the window sill, liis cliair tipped siil)lirnely back, a cigar in iiis mouth, and a news- paper in his hand. Many people were passing in and out, some 3f whom he greeted with a nod, others with a brief salutation, while he still went on with his reading and smoking. Tliere seemed to be nothing very exciting in tlie paper, judging by Captain Cam])beirs suppressed yawns ; and he was about to throw it aside as worthless, when a ])aragrapii cauglit his eye, and brought him to his feet as suddenly as though those members were furnished with steel springs. The paragraph was brief, and ran thus : ''If Mark Campbell, Esq., of Campbell Isle, is still alive, he is earnestly requested to call immediately at the office of C. Ringdon, attorney-at-law, No. IG street, Westport. In case of his death, his heirs should reply. C. RlNCJDON.'' "Now, what in the name of Neptune and all his scaly court can this mean ? " ejaculated the amazed Captain Campbell. ''Sliould be happy to inform you," said a voice behind him, " only I don't know what you're talking about." Captain Campbell turned round, and saw a fashionably dressed young man who had just entered, standing beside him. "Ah, Stafford, how are you ?" he said, extending his hand; "happy to see you. What in the world brought you here ? the very last person I ever expected to see in this quarter of the globe." "Well," said Stafford, leisurelv seating himself. "I came down here, nominally, to transact some business r i' n ' M ! 76 THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE. 1 ! ', ; 1 for the governor ; but the fact is, I lieard the Evening Star had arrived, and J wanted to pay my devoirs to Her Majesty, the Queen of tlie Isle. How is pretty Lady Sybil ? " "' Very well, and at present on a visit to the Rev. ^^r. lirantwelFs. lint look at this advertisement, here, in the Westport Herald ; wliat the deuce do you make of it ? " Stafford took tlie paper and carelessly glanced over the lines. '' Faith, I don^t know. Somebody's left you a legacy, perhaps." " Fooh ! what a notion ! Who under the sun is there to leave a legacy to me ? The Campbells are all as poor as Job's turkey." *'Well, there's your mother's relations — tlie Eyres. Old Richard Eyre, the New York banker is a millionaire worth more huTidred thousand dollars than I would under- take to count. He might have died aiul left you his money." ^' And leave his own family without ! A likely story ! " said Captain Campbell. '' My dear fellow, he had no family, except a wife, and she had been dead for many years. You may be certain he has left you his heir." *' ]?y Jove ! if it should prove to be true, that would be a streak of good luck. But it cannot be. Dame Fortune would never bestow on a Campbell any such friendly smile. They always were an impoverished race, and always will be, I believe." " Don't be too confident. Strange things happen some- times. For instance, I saw something very strange a night or two ago." •'^Yes"? what is it?" '^ "Well, you see, about dark I was wandering about the shore, enjoying a cigar and the beauty of the evening, and ruminating whether it wouldn't be advisable to take a boat and go over and see Her Adorable Majesty Queen Sybil. Most likely my cogitation would have ended in my going, only — unfortunately — there was no boat to be seen. I was about to turn away in despair, when I suddenly espied a boat containing two persons land at some distance below where I stood. One was a young fellow, tall and good- looking — with a certain air of aristocratic hauteur aboufe ^ > it ii^i ONE OF FOKTUXF/S SMILES. 77 lit the id )iit "i [ed low )d- him tliat told nio lie was not to bo intorfored with. But his companion ! O yu