THE

QUEEN OF THE ISLE.

A Novel.

BY

MAY AGNES FLEMING.

AUTHOR OF
"GUY EARLSCOURT'S WIFE," "THE ACTRESS' DAUGHTER,"
"A WONDERFUL WOMAN," "LOST FOR A WOMAN,"
"SILENT AND TRUE," "ONE NIGHT'S MYSTERY,"
"A TERRIBLE SECRET," "A MAD MARRIAGE,"
ETC., ETC.

NEW YORK:
COPYRIGHT, 1886.
G. W. Dillingham, Publisher,
SUCCESSOR TO G. W. CARLETON & Co.
LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO.
MDCCCLXXXVI.

CONTENTS.

Chapter

I. [Campbell's Isle]
II. [The Magic Mirror]
III. [The Maniac's Curse]
IV. [The Haunted Room]
V. [The Midnight cry]
VI. ["Off with the Old Love, and on with the New."]
VII. [The Heart's Struggle]
VIII. [The Triumph of Passion]
IX. [The Vision of the Isle]
X. [One of Fortune's Smiles]
XI. [The Storm—The Wreck]
XII. [Sibyl's Return to the Isle]
XIII. [The Meeting]
XIV. [Jealousy]
XV. [Self-Torture]
XVI. [Falsehood and Deceit]
XVII. [A Lull Before the Tempest]
XVIII. [The Fatal Note]
XIX. [That Day]
XX. [What Came Next]
XXI. [That Night]
XXII. [Next Morning]
XXIII. [Morning in the Island]
XXIV. [Christie]
XXV. [The Maniac's Story]
XXVI. [Remorse]
XXVII. [The Widowed Bridegroom]
XXVIII. [The Thunderbolt Falls]
XXIX. [The Devotion of Love]
XXX. [Sibyl's Doom]
XXXI. [The Bankrupt Heart]
XXXII. [Another Storm Within and Without]
XXXIII. [The Dead Alive]
XXXIV. [Explanations]
XXXV. [Meetings and Partings]

THE QUEEN OF THE ISLE;

OR,

A HASTY WOOING.

CHAPTER I.
CAMPBELL'S ISLE.

"The island lies nine leagues away,
Along its solitary shore
Of craggy rock and sandy bay
No sound but ocean's roar,
Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home,
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam."—R. H. DANA.

About six miles from the mainland of M——, with its rock-bound coast washed by the waters of the broad Atlantic, was an islet known in the days of which I write as Campbell's Isle.

The island was small—about two miles in length and the same in breadth, but fertile and luxurious. The dense primeval forest, which as yet the destroying ax had scarcely touched, reared itself high and dark in the northern part of the island. A deep, unbroken silence ever reigned here, save when some gay party from the opposite coast visited the island to fish or shoot partridges. Sometimes during the summer, pleasure parties were held here, but in the winter all was silent and dreary on the lonely, isolated little 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 country had learned to look upon them as the rightful lords of the soil, "to the manner born." The means by which it had first come into their possession were seldom thought of, or if thought of, only added to their reputation as a bold and daring race. The legend ran, that long before Calvert came over, a certain Sir Guy Campbell, a celebrated freebooter and scion of the noble Scottish clan of that name, who for some reckless crime had been outlawed and banished, and in revenge had hoisted the black flag and become a rover on the 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 outlaws like himself—he held many a jolly carousal that made the old woods ring.

In one of his adventures he had taken captive a young Spanish girl, whose wondrous beauty at once conquered a heart all unused to the tender passion. He bore off his prize in triumph, and without asking her consent, made her his wife at the first port he touched. Soon, however, tiring of her company on shipboard, he brought her to his island home, and their left her to occupy his 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 character, he blew up the vessel, and, together with his crew and captors, perished in the explosion.

His son and successor, Gasper, born on the isle, grew up tall, bold, and handsome, with all his father's daring and undaunted courage, and his mother's beauty, and torrid passionate nature. He, 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 render an account of his works, leaving to his eldest son, Hugh, the bold spirit of his forefathers, the possession of Campbell's Isle, and the family mansion known as Campbell'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, caring 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 point in scorn 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. From sire to son the fiery blood of Sir Guy the Fearless passed unadulterated, and throbbed in the veins of Mark Campbell, the late master of the lodge, in a darker, fiercer stream than in any that had gone before. A heavy-browed, stern-hearted man he was, of whose dark deeds wild rumors went whispering about, for no one dared breathe them aloud, lest they should reach his vindictive ears, and rouse the slumbering tiger in his breast. At his death, which took place some two or three years previous to the opening of our story, his son Guy, a true descendant of his illustrious namesake, became the lord and master of the isle, and the last of the Campbells.

Young Guy showed no disposition to pass his days in the spot where he was born. After the death of his father, Guy resolved to visit foreign lands, and leave Campbell's Lodge to the care of an old black servant, Aunt Moll, and her son Lem, both of whom had passed their lives in the service of the family, and considered that in some sort the honor of the house lay in their hands.

Vague rumors were current that the old house was haunted. Fishermen out, casting their nets, avowed that at midnight, blue, unearthly lights flashed from the upper chambers—where it was known Aunt Moll never went—and wild, piercing shrieks, that chilled the blood with horror, echoed on the still night air. The superstitious whispered that Black Mark had been sent back by his master, the Evil One, to atone for his wicked deeds done in the flesh, and that his restless spirit would ever haunt the old lodge—the scene, it was believed, of many an appalling crime. Be that as it may, the old house was deserted, save by Aunt Moll and her hopeful son; and young Guy, taking with him his only sister, spent his time in cruising about in a schooner he owned, and—it was said, among the rest of the rumors—in cheating the revenue.

Besides the lodge, or Campbell's Castle, as it was sometimes called, the island contained but one other habitation, occupied by a widow, a distant connection of the Campbells, who, after the death of her husband, had come here to reside. The cottage was situated on the summit of a gentle elevation that commanded an extensive view of the island; for Mrs. Tomlinson—or Mrs. Tom, as she was always called—liked a wide prospect.

The most frugal, the most industrious of housewives was Mrs. Tom. No crime in her eyes equaled that of thriftlessness, and all sins could be pardoned but that of laziness. Unfortunately for her peace of mind, she was afflicted with an orphan nephew, the laziest of mortals, whose shortcomings kept the bustling old lady in a fever from morning till night. A wild young sister of Mrs. Tom's 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 dead in the morning. Master Carl Henley was accordingly adopted by his living relative and, as that good lady declared, had been "the death of her" ever 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 questioned on the subject, only shut her lips and shook her head mysteriously, and spoke never a word. Although she called the old lady aunt, it was generally believed that she was no relation; but as Christie was a favorite with all who visited the island, the mystery concerning her, though it piqued the curiosity of the curious, made them like her none the less. A big Newfoundland dog and a disagreeable chattering parrot completed the widow's household.

Mrs. Tom's business was flourishing. She made a regular visit each week to the mainland, where she disposed of fish, nuts, and berries, in which the island abounded, and brought back groceries and such things as she needed. Besides that, she kept a sort of tavern and place of refreshment for the sailors and fishermen, 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 were remembered in the country around and electrified for a time the whole community.

CHAPTER II
THE MAGIC MIRROR.

"I turned my eyes, and as I turned surveyed
An awful vision."

The sun was sinking in the far west as the little schooner Evening Star went dancing over the bright waves towards Campbell's Isle. Captain Guy Campbell stood leaning negligently over the taffrail, solacing himself with a cigar, and conversing at intervals with a slight, somewhat haughty-looking young man, who stood beside him, watching the waves flashing, as they sped along. No two could be more opposite, as far as looks went, than those two, yet both were handsome and about the same age.

Like all his race, young Campbell was very tall, and dark as a Spaniard. His short, black, curling hair shadowed a forehead high, bold, and commanding. Dark, keen, proud eyes flashed from beneath jetty eye-brows, and the firm, resolute mouth gave to his dark face a look almost fierce. His figure was exquisitely proportioned and there was a certain bold frankness, mingled with a reckless, devil-may-care expression in his fine face, that atoned for his swarthy complexion and stern brows.

His companion was a tall, elegant young man, with an air of proud superiority about him, as though he were "somebody," and knew it. His complexion was fair as a lady's, and would have been effeminate but for the dark, bold eyes and his dashing air generally. There was something particularly winning in his handsome face, especially when he smiled, that lit up his whole countenance with new beauty. Yet, with all, there was a certain faithless expression about the finely formed mouth that would have led a close observer to hesitate before trusting him too far. This, reader, was Mr. Willard Drummond, a young half-American, half-Parisian, and heir to one of the finest estates in the Old Dominion. The last five years he had passed in Paris, and when he was thinking of returning home he had encountered Campbell and his sister. Fond of luxury and ease as the young patrician was, he gave up all, after that, for the attraction he discovered on board the schooner Evening Star. And Captain Campbell, pleased with his new friend, invited him to cross the ocean with him, and spend a few weeks with him in his ancestral home, whither he was obliged to stop while some repairs were being made in his vessel, which invitation Willard Drummond, nothing loth, accepted.

"Well, Campbell, how is that patient of yours this evening?" inquired Drummond, after a pause.

"Don't know," replied Captain Campbell, carelessly; "I haven't seen him since morning. Sibyl is with him now."

"By the way, where did you pick him up? He was not one of your crew, I understand."

"No; I met him in Liverpool. He came to me one day, and asked me to take him home. I replied that I had no accommodations, and would much rather not be troubled with passengers. However, he pleaded so hard for me to accommodate him, and looked so like something from the other world all the time, that I had not the heart to refuse the poor fellow. Before we had been three days out at sea he was taken ill, and has been raving and shrieking ever since, as you know."

"What do you suppose is the matter with him?"

"Well, I haven't much experience as nurse myself, but I think it's brain fever, or something of that kind; Sibyl, however, thinks that bitter remorse for something he has done is preying on his mind, and girls always know best in these cases."

"He is, if I may judge by his looks, of humble station," said Mr. Drummond, in an indifferent tone.

"Yes; there can be no doubt of that, though he appears to have plenty of money."

"Has he given his name?"

"Yes; Richard Grove."

"Hum! Well, it would be unpleasant to have him die on board, of course," said Drummond.

"Oh, I think he'll live to reach our destination; he does not appear to be sinking very fast."

"We must now be quite near this island home of yours, Captain Campbell; I grow impatient to see it."

"We shall reach it about moonrise to-night, if the wind holds as it is now."

"And what, may I ask, do you intend doing with this—Richard Grove, when you get there? Will you take him into your Robinson Crusoe castle and nurse him until he gets well, as that enterprising canoe-builder did Friday's father?

"No, I think not. There is an old lady on the island, who is never so happy as when she has some one to nurse. I think we'll consign him to her."

"Then there is another habitation on the island beside yours?" said Drummond, looking up with more interest than he had yet manifested.

"Yes; old Mrs. Tom, a distant connection of our family, I believe. And, by the way, Drummond, there is a pretty little girl in the case. I suppose that will interest you more than the old woman."

"Pretty girls are an old story by this time," said Drummond, with a yawn.

"Yes, with such a renowned lady-killer as you, no doubt."

"I never saw but one girl in the world worth the trouble of loving," said Drummond, looking thoughtfully into the water.

"Ah, what a paragon she must have been. May I ask what quarter of the globe has the honor of containing so peerless a beauty?"

"I never said she was a beauty, mon ami. But never mind that. When do you expect to be ready for sea again?"

"As soon as possible—in a few weeks, perhaps—for I fear that we'll all soon get tired of the loneliness of the place."

"You ought to be pretty well accustomed to its loneliness by this time."

"Not I, faith! It's now three years since I have been there."

"Is it possible? I thought you Campbells were too much attached to your ancestral home to desert it so long as that."

"Well, it's a dreary place, and I have such an attachment for a wild, exciting life that positively I could not endure it. I should die of stagnation. As for Sibyl, my wild, impulsive sister, she would now as soon think of entering a convent as passing her life there."

"Yet you said it was partly by her request you were going there now?"

"Yes, she expressed a wish to show you the place." A slight flush of pleasure colored the clear face of Drummond. "I don't know what's got into Sibyl lately," continued her brother. "I never saw a girl so changed. She used to be the craziest leap-over-the-moon madcap that ever existed; now she is growing as tame as—as little Christie."

Drummond's fine eyes were fixed keenly on the frank, open face of Captain Campbell; but nothing was to be read there more than his words contained. With a peculiar smile he turned away, and said, carelessly:

"And who is this little Christie to whom you refer?"

"She's the protege of the old lady on the island—fair as the dream of an opium-eater, enchanting as a houri, and with the voice of an angel."

"Whew! the bold Campbell, the daring descendant of old Guy the Fearless, has lost his heart at last!" laughed Willard Drummond.

"Not I," answered Guy, carelessly. "I never yet saw the woman who could touch my heart, and, please Heaven, never will."

"Well, here's a wonder—a young man of three-and-twenty, and never in love! Do you expect me to believe such a fable, my good friend?"

"Believe or not, as you will, it is nevertheless true."

"What—do you mean to say you have never felt a touch of the grande passion—the slightest symptom of that infectious disorder?"

"Pooh! boyish fancies go for nothing. I have now and then felt a queer sensation about the region of my heart at the sight of sundry faces at different times, but as for being fatally and incorrigibly in love, never, on my honor!"

"Well, before you reach the age of thirty, you'll have a different story to tell, or I'm mistaken."

"No; there is no danger, I fancy, unless indeed," he added, fixing his eyes quizzically on Drummond's handsome face, "I should happen to meet this little enchantress you spoke of awhile ago."

A cloud passed over the brow of his companion; but it cleared away in a moment as a quick, light footstep was heard approaching, and the next instant Sibyl Campbell, the haughty daughter of a haughty race, stood bright, dazzling, and smiling before them.

No one ever looked once in the face of Sibyl Campbell without turning to gaze again. Peerlessly beautiful as she was, it was not her beauty that would startle you, but the look of wild power, of intense daring, of fierce passions, of unyielding energy, of a will powerful for love or hate, of a nature loving, passionate, fiery, impulsive, and daring, yet gentle and winning.

She might have been seventeen years of age—certainly not more. In stature she was tall, and with a form regally beautiful, splendidly developed, with a haughty grace peculiarly her own. Her face was perfectly oval: her complexion, naturally olive, had been tanned by sun and wind to a rich, clear, gipsyish darkness. Her hair, that hung in a profusion of long curls, was of jetty blackness, save where the sun fell on it, bringing out red rings of fire. Her large Syrian eyes, full of passion and power, were of the most intense blackness, now flashing with sparks of light, and anon swimming in liquid tenderness. Her high, bold brow might have become a crown—certainly it was regal in its pride and scorn. Her mouth, which was the only voluptuous feature in her face, was small, with full, ripe, red lips, rivaling in bloom the deep crimson of her dark cheeks.

Her dress was like herself—odd and picturesque, consisting of a short skirt of black silk, a bodice of crimson velvet, with gilt buttons. She held in one hand a black velvet hat, with a long, sweeping plume, swinging it gayly by the strings as she came toward them.

She was a strange, wild-looking creature, altogether; yet what would first strike an observer was her queenly air of pride, her lofty hauteur, her almost unendurable arrogance. For her unbending pride, as well as her surprising beauty, the haughty little lady had obtained, even in childhood, the title of "Queen of the Isle." And queenly she looked, with her noble brow, her flashing, glorious eyes, her dainty, curving lips, her graceful, statuesque form—in every sense of the word "a queen of noble Nature's crowning."

And Willard Drummond, passionate admirer of beauty as he was, what thought he of this dazzling creature? He leaned negligently still against the taffrail, with his eyes fixed on her sparkling, sunbright face, noting every look and gesture as one might gaze on some strange, beautiful creation, half in fear, half in love, but wholly in admiration. Yes, he loved her, or thought he did; and gazing with him on the moonlit waves, when the solemn stars shone serenely above him, he had told her so, and she had believed him. And she, wild, untutored child of nature, who can tell the deep devotion, the intense passion, the fiery, all-absorbing love for him that filled her impulsive young heart?

"Love was to her impassioned soul
Not, as to others, a mere part
Of her existence; but the whole—
The very life-breath of her heart."

As she advanced, Willard Drummond started up, saying, gayly:

"Welcome back, Miss Sibyl. I thought the sunlight had deserted us altogether; but you have brought it back in your eyes."

"How's your patient, Sibyl?" said Captain Campbell, who, not being in love, found Mr. Drummond's high-flown compliments very tiresome sometimes.

"Much worse, I am afraid," she answered in a peculiarly musical voice. "I do not think he will live to see the morrow's sun. His ravings are frightful to hear—some terrible crime seems to be weighing him down as much as disease."

"After all, the human soul is an awful possession for a guilty man," said Captain Campbell, thoughtfully. "Things can be smoothed over during life, but when one comes to die—"

"They feel what retributive justice is, I suppose," said Drummond, in his customary careless tone; "and apropos of that, somebody will suffer terrible remorse after I die. I am to be murdered, if there is any truth in fortune-telling."

He spoke lightly, with a half smile; but Sibyl's face paled involuntarily as she exclaimed:

"Murdered, did you say? Who could have predicted anything so dreadful?"

"An old astrologer, or enchanter, or wizard of some kind, in Germany, when I was there. The affair seems so improbable, so utterly absurd, in short, that I never like to allude to it."

"You are not fool enough to believe such nonsense, I hope," said Captain Campbell.

"I don't know as it is nonsense. 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in philosophy,' you know."

"Yes—I was sure you would quote that; everyone does that when he advances some absurd doctrine; but it's all the greatest stuff, nevertheless."

"But did he tell you who you were to be—"

Sibyl stopped short; even in jest she could not pronounce the word.

"Murdered by?" said Willard, quietly finishing the sentence for her. "No, he told me nothing. I saw it all."

"Saw it! How? I do not understand."

"Oh, the story is hardly worth relating, and ought not to be told in the presence of such a skeptic as Captain Guy Campbell," said Drummond, running his fingers lightly through his dark, glossy locks.

"Heaven forbid I should wait to be inflicted by it!" said Captain Campbell, starting up. "I will relieve you of my presence, and allow you to entertain my superstitious sister here with your awful destiny, of which she will doubtless believe every word."

"I should be sorry to believe anything so dreadful," said Sibyl, gravely; "but I do think there are some gifted ones to whom the future has been revealed. I wish I could meet them, and find out what it has in store for me."

"Let me be your prophet," said Drummond, softly. "Beautiful Sibyl, there can be nothing but bliss for an angel like you."

Her radiant face flushed with pride, love, and triumph at his words.

"Do you believe in omens?" she said, laughingly. "See how brightly and beautifully yonder moon is rising! Now, if it reaches the arch of heaven unclouded, I shall believe your prediction."

Even as she spoke, a dense cloud passed athwart the sky, and the moon was obscured in darkness.

The dark, bright face of Sibyl paled at the dread omen. Involuntarily her eyes sought Drummond's who also had been gazing at the sky.

"Heaven avert the omen!" she cried, with a shudder. "Oh, 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 Sibyl, 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. Sibyl blushed vividly, as she said:

"I know you must think me weak and childish; but I am superstitious by nature. Dreams, inspirations, and presentiments, that no one else thinks 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."

"Well, let me see," said Willard Drummond, leaning his head on his hand. "It is now three years ago that a celebrated Egyptian fortune-teller visited the town in Germany where I resided. His fame soon spread far and wide, and crowds of the incredulous came from every part to visit him. He 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 in 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 others were called, and all came back grave and thoughtful. By some chance, I was the last.

"I am not, like you, bright Sibyl, naturally superstitious; but I confess, when the interpreter ushered me into the presence of this wizard, I felt a sort of chilly awe creeping over me. He was the most singular-looking being I ever beheld. His face was exactly like that of one who 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 in his ghastly face. There were caldrons, and lizards, and cross-bones, and tame serpents, and curious devices carved on the walls, ceiling and floor, and the white, grinning skulls that were scattered about formed a hideously revolting sight in that 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, black robe, all woven over with scorpions, and snakes, and other equally pleasing objects, that seemed starting out dazzlingly white from this dark background. Altogether, the room looked so like a charnel-house, and the wizard so like a supernatural being, that I am not ashamed 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, which he wrote down in some sort of hieroglyphics and handed to the Egyptian. Then bidding me advance and keep my eyes fixed on the caldron and not speak a word, the interpreter left the room.

"My heart beat faster than was its wont as I approached this strange being, and found myself completely alone with him in this ghostly, weird place. He 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 in an unknown tongue as he did so. Presently a cloud of smoke arose, dense, black, and suffocating, filling the whole room with the gloom of Tartarus. Slowly, as if endowed with instinct, it lifted itself up and spread out before me. And, looking up, I beheld—"

Willard Drummond paused, as if irresolute whether to reveal the rest or not; but Sibyl grasped his arm, and in 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 a triumphal hymn. A clergyman, book in hand, stood before a bridal pair, performing the marriage 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 five seconds they remained thus stationary, then it began to grow more indistinct; the forms grew shadowy and undefined, and began to disappear. Just before they vanished altogether, the faces of the wedded pair turned for an instant toward me, and in the bridegroom, Sibyl, I beheld myself. The vapor lifted and lifted, until all was gone, and nothing was to be seen but the black walls of the room and the 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 became 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 pitcher of water and a loaf—orthodox prison fare from time immemorial. On the ground, chained to the wall, groveled a woman, in shining bridal robes, her 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 spell-bound to the spot, unable to move, in breathless interest. Then the scene began to fade away; the prostrate figure lifted its head, and I beheld the face of her whom 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. Sibyl! Sibyl! it will haunt me to my dying day. I put out my hand, as if to retain her, but in that instant all disappeared."

Once more Willard Drummond paused; this time he was deadly pale, and his eyes were wild and excited. Sibyl stood near him, her great black, mystic eyes dilated, every trace of color fading from her face, leaving even her lips 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 flowed from a great, frightful gash in his head, from which the life seemed just to have gone. As the white face of the murdered man was upturned to the light—cut, bloody, and disfigured as it was—Sibyl, I recognized myself once more, As Heaven hears me, I saw it as plainly as I see yonder pale, fair moon now. A white, ghostly form, whether of woman or spirit I know not, seemed hovering near, darting, as it were, in and out amid the trees. Even as I gazed, it grew thin and shadowy, until all was gone again.

"For the fourth and last time, the Egyptian threw a strange incense on the fire, and 'spoke the words of power," and a new vision met my horrified gaze. I seemed to behold an immense concourse of people, a vast mob, swaying to and fro in the wildest excitement. A low, hoarse growl, as of distant thunder, passed at intervals through the vast crowd, and every eye was raised to an object above them. I looked up, too, and beheld a sight that seemed freezing the very blood in my veins. It was a scaffold; and standing on it, with the ignominious halter round her white, beautiful neck, was she who had stood beside me at the altar, whom I had seen chained in her prison-cell, doomed to die by the hand of the public hangman now. Her beautiful hands were stretched out wildly, imploringly, to the crowd below, who only hooted her in her agony and despair. The executioner led her to the fatal drop, a great shout arose from the crowd, then all faded away; and looking up, as if from an appalling dream, I saw the interpreter beckoning me from the door. How I reeled from the room, with throbbing brow and feverish pulse, I know not. Everything seemed swimming around me; and, in a state of the wildest excitement, I was hurried home by my companions.

"The next day the Egyptian left the city, and where he went after, I never heard.

"Such was the glimpse of the future I beheld. It was many months after before I completely recovered from the shock I received. How to account for it I do not know. Certain I am that I beheld it, truly, as I have told it in every particular, for the impression it made upon me at the time was so powerful that everything connected with it is indelibly engraven on my memory. It may seem strange, absurd, impossible; but that I have nothing to do with; I only know I saw it, incredible as it seems. But, good heaven! Sibyl, dearest, are you ill—fainting!"

Pale, trembling, and excited, the once fearless Sibyl Campbell clung to his arm, white with vague, sickening horror. Superstitious to an unusual degree, an awful presentiment had clutched her heart; and, for a moment she seemed dying in his arms.

"Sibyl! Sibyl! my dearest love!" he said, in alarm, "what is it?"

"Nothing—nothing," she answered, in a tremulous voice; "but, oh, Willard! do you believe the prediction?"

"Strange, wild girl that you are! has this idle talk frightened you so?" he said, smiling at her wild, dilated eyes.

"If it should prove true," she said, covering her face with a shudder. "Willard, tell me—do you believe it?"

"My dark-eyed darling, how can I tell whether to believe it or not? It has not come true, and there seems no likelihood of its ever doing so. Do not think of it any more; if I had thought it would have unnerved you so, I would never have told you."

"But, Willard, did any of his other predictions prove true?"

"I would rather not answer that question, Sibyl," he said, while a cloud darkened for a moment his fine face.

"You must tell me," she cried, starting up, and looking at him with her large, lustrous eyes.

"Well, then—yes," said Drummond, reluctantly. "Young Vaughn, one of those who accompanied me, saw a funeral procession, and himself robed for the grave lying in the coffin. Five weeks after, he was accidentally shot."

She put up her arm in a vague, wild sort of way, as if to ward off some approaching danger.

"Oh, Willard! this is dreadful—dreadful! What if all he predicted should come to pass!"

"Well, I should be obliged to do the best I could. What will be, will be—you know. But I have no such fear. Nonsense, Sibyl! a Campbell of the Isle trembling thus at imaginary danger!—the ghost of Guy the Fearless will start from his grave, if he discovers it!"

The color came proudly back to her cheek at his bantering words, as she said, more coldly and calmly:

"For myself, I could never tremble; but for——"

She paused, and her beautiful lip quivered.

"For me, then, dear love, those fears are," he said tenderly. "A thousand thanks for this proof of your love: but, believe me, the cause is only imaginary. Why, Sibyl, I had nearly forgotten all about the matter, until your brother's remark to-night recalled it to my memory. Promise me, now, you will never think of it more—much less speak of it."

"Tell me one thing more, Willard, and I promise—only one," said Sibyl, laying her hand on his shoulder, and looking up in his face earnestly, while her voice trembled in spite of all her efforts.

"Well," he said, anxiously.

"Did you recognize the face of the person whom you saw beside you at the altar, and who afterward died on I the scaffold?"

He was silent, and looked with a troubled eye out over the shining waters.

"Willard, dearest Willard! tell me, have you, ever yet seen her?"

"Why will you question me thus, dearest Sibyl?"

"Answer me truly, Willard, on your honor."

"Well, then, dearest, I have."

Sibyl drew her breath quick and short, and held his arm with a convulsive grasp.

"Who is she?" she asked.

Willard turned, and looking steadily into her wild, searching eyes, replied, in a thrilling whisper:

CHAPTER III.
THE MANIAC'S CURSE.

"Her wretched brain gave way,
And she became a wreck at random driven,
Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven."—LALLA ROOKH.

The schooner Evening Star lay at anchor in a little rock-bound inlet, on the northern side of the island previously referred to. A boat had just put off from her, containing Captain Guy Campbell, Mr. Willard Drummond, Sibyl Campbell, and the sick passenger, Richard Grove. He lay on a sort of mattress, half supported by Captain Campbell; and in the pale, cold moonlight, looked wan and emaciated to a fearful degree. The features, sharply defined, were like those of a skeleton, and, in their ghastly rigidity, seemed like those of a corpse. But life, intensely burning life, shone in the wild, troubled eyes. Willard Drummond and Sibyl sat talking together, in low tones, at the other end of the boat, fearful of disturbing the dying man.

As the boat touched the shore, Drummond leaped out, and extended his hand to Sibyl; but the wild sea-nymph, declining the needless aid, sprang lightly out, and stood beside him.

The figure of a woman, who had been standing on a rock, watching their approach, now came forward, exclaiming delightedly:

"Laws-a-massy, Miss Sibyl! Who ever s'posed we'd see you here again? Where hev you been to this long time?"

"My dear Mrs. Tom!" said Sibyl, smilingly, holding out her hand; "I am delighted to see you. Where I have been is a troublesome question to answer, seeing I have been almost everywhere you could mention."

"Laws, now! hev you? 'Spect you had nice times sailin' round, though it does seem odd how you could stand all the sea-sickness you must have come through. 'Tain' every young critter would do it. But then you allus was different from most young folks. Jemimi! how you've growed, an' how handsome you've got! Jest as pooty as a picter! An' that, I s'pose, is young Master Guy!" continued the loquacious new-comer, eagerly, as the young captain leaped lightly ashore.

Sibyl nodded, and blushed slightly, as she encountered the gaze of Drummond, who stood watching Mrs. Tom, with a half-smile of amusement on his fine face.

"Master Guy!" said the officious Mrs. Tom, bustling forward; "you hain't forgotten your old aunty, I hope? My gracious! you've got as tall as a hop-pole! Growed out of my knowledge altogether!"

"Why, Mrs. Tom, 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! 'Pon my word, I'm delighted to see you looking so well! How is pretty Christie and Master Carl?"

"Oh, Christie is well enough, and pootier than ever; and, what's more, she's as good as she's handsome. But Carl—oh, Master Guy! that there young limb'll break my heart yet! I hain't the slightest doubt of it. Of all the thrif'less, good-for-nothing lazy-bones—"

"Oh, well, Mrs. Tom, he'll outgrow that. The best thing you can do is to let me take him to sea with me the next time I go, and that will cure him of his laziness, if anything will. In the meantime, I have a patient for you to take care of, if you have no objection. He can't last much longer, poor fellow, and you are a better nurse than Sibyl. What do you say, Mrs. Tom? Shall I send him 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 that it is a wonder how it ever found room in so small a body. However, I have been told, as a general thing, little people are, by far, cleverer and warmer-hearted than their tall neighbors—as if nature were anxious to atone for their shortened stature by giving them a double allowance of heart and brains.

Nursing was Mrs. Tom's peculiar element. Nothing delighted her more than to get possession of a patient, whom she could doctor back to health. But unfortunately this desire of her heart was seldom gratified; 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, afforded her an opportunity of physicking indiscriminately certain unfortunate little wretches, who were always having influenza, and measles, and hooping-cough, and other little complaints too numerous to mention, and which fled before Mrs. Tom's approach and the power of her "yarb tea." Of late there had been a "plentiful scarcity" even of these escape-valves, so her eyes twinkled now with their delight at the prospect of this godsend.

"Send him up? Sartinly you will, Master 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 who had rowed them ashore, "Gently, boys," he said, as the sick man groaned. "Don't hurt him. Follow Mrs. Tom to her cottage—that's the way. I'll be down early to-morrow to see him, Mrs. Tom. This way, Drummond; follow me. I'll bid you good-night, Mrs. Tom. Remember me to Christie."

And Captain Campbell sprang up the rocks, followed by Sibyl and Drummond, in the direction of Campbell's Castle.

Mrs. Tom, with a rapidity which the two sturdy seamen found it difficult to follow, burdened as they were, walked toward her cottage.

The home of Mrs. Tom was a low, one-story house, consisting of one large room and bed-room, with a loft above, where all sorts of lumber and garden implements were thrown, and where Master Carl sought his repose. A garden in front, and a well-graveled path, led up to the front door, and into the apartment which served as kitchen, parlor, dining-room, and sleeping-room for Christie and Mrs. Tom. The furniture was of the plainest description, and scanty at that, for Mrs. Tom was poor, in spite of all her industry; but, as might be expected from so thrifty a housewife, everything was like waxwork. The small, diamond-shaped panes in the windows flashed like jewels in the moonlight; and the floors and chairs were scrubbed as white as human hands could make them. Behind the house was a large vegetable garden, nominally cultivated by Carl, but really by Mrs. Tom, who preferred doing the work herself to watching her lazy nephew.

As the men entered with their burden, Mrs. Tom threw open the bed-room door, and the sick man was deposited on the bed. Lights were brought by Carl, a round-faced, yellow-haired, sleepy-looking youth, of fifteen, with dull, unmeaning blue eyes, and a slow, indolent gait; the very opposite in every way of his brisk, bustling little aunt.

"Be off with you to bed!" said Mrs. Tom. "It's the best place for any one so lazy as you are. Clear out, now, for I'm going to sit up with this here sick man, and want quiet."

With evident willingness Carl shuffled off, leaving Mrs. Tom alone with her patient.

The little woman approached the bed, and looked at his pinched, sallow features with an experienced eye. It was evident to her he could not survive the night.

"I wonder if he knows his end's so near at hand?" said Mrs. Tom to herself. "He ought to know, anyhow. I'll tell him when he awakes, 'cause it's no use for me trying to do anything with him."

The man was not asleep. As she spoke he opened his large, wild-looking black eyes, and gazed around vacantly.

"Mister," began Mrs. Tom, "I don't know your name, but 'taint no odds. Do you know how long you have to live?"

"How long?" said the man, looking at her with a gaze so wild that, had Mrs. Tom been the least bit nervous, would have terrified her beyond measure.

"Not three hours," said Mrs. Tom gravely.

A sort of wild horror overspread the face of the dying man.

"So soon! oh, Heaven, so soon!" he murmured, "and with all unconfessed still. I cannot die with this crime on my soul. I must reveal the miserable secret that has eaten away my very life."

Mrs. Tom listened to this unexpected outburst in wonder and amazement.

"Listen," said the man, turning to Mrs. Tom, and speaking rapidly in his excitement. "One night, about thirteen years ago, as I was returning home from my day's labor, I was overtaken by a violent storm. I was a considerable distance from home, and there was no house near where I could remain for the night. It was intensely dark, and I staggered blindly along in the drenching rain until, by a sudden flash of lightning, I chanced to espy the ruins of an old house, that had long been deserted. Thankful even for this refuge from the storm, I entered it, and, retreating into a corner, I sat on an empty box waiting for the tempest to abate.

"Suddenly I heard the sound of voices in an adjoining room, talking in low whispers. There were, at the time, certain suspicious characters prowling about, and the unexpected sound startled me. Still, I felt they might be only weather-bound wayfarers, like myself; but, before joining them, I thought it might be prudent to discover who they were, and I cautiously drew near the wall to listen.

"The partition dividing us was thin, and in the lull of the storm I could catch here and there a few words of their conversation.

"'I tell you he killed himself,' said one. 'I saw him. He stabbed him to the heart with his knife.'

"'What does he intend doing with—?' Here a sudden rush of wind and rain prevented me from hearing what followed.

"'And serves the jade right, too,' were the next words I heard. 'She might have known what it was to rouse the anger of that devil incarnate.'

"'Where are we to find this fellow he wants?' said the second voice.

"'At Minton, on the coast, half a mile from here. His name's Dick Grove. I know him.'

"I started in alarm, as well I might, for the name was mine.

"'How do you know he'll agree?'

"'If he doesn't, said the first, with an oath that made my blood run chill, 'a little cold steel will settle the business. But the terms are easier than that; he's to be well paid for holding his tongue, and as he's a poor devil, he'll do anything for money. Oh, he'll agree; there's no trouble about that.'

"The increasing noise of the storm now drowned their voices altogether. I stood for a moment rooted to the ground with terror. That some terrible crime had been, or was to be perpetrated, in which, by some means, I was to be implicated, I plainly saw; and my only idea now was to escape. I started forward, but, as my unlucky fate would have it, I stumbled in the darkness and fell heavily to the ground with a violence that shook the old house.

"I heard, as I lay half stunned, an ejaculation of alarm from the inner room and quick footsteps approaching where I lay. All was now up with me, so I scrambled to my feet just as two men, wearing black crape masks over their faces, entered. Each carried pistols, and one held a dark-lantern, the light of which flashed in my face.

"'Who are you, sir?' fiercely exclaimed one; and I saw him draw a sword that made my blood curdle.

"I essayed to answer, but my teeth chattered so with terror that I could not utter a word.

"'Ha!' exclaimed the other, who all this time had been holding the lantern close to my face. 'This is the very fellow we were in search of. Your name is Richard Grove?'

"'Yes,' I managed to say, quaking with mortal fear.

"'You are a mason by trade, and live in Minton?' said, or rather affirmed, my fierce questioner.

"I replied in the affirmative, for I saw there was no use in attempting a lie.

"'All right, Tom. You go for the carriage; I will take care of our friend here until you return.'

"The one with the knife left the house, and the other, drawing a pistol, the disagreeable click of which made me jump, sat down before me, keeping his eyes immovably riveted on my face. I did not dare to move. I scarcely dared to breathe, as I stood with my eyes fixed, as if fascinated, on the deadly weapon. Nearly ten minutes passed thus in profound silence, when the sound of carriage-wheels was heard; and the instant after, the man called Tom entered, his mask off, but his hat pulled so far down over his eyes, and his coat-collar turned so far up, that I could see nothing but a pair of dark, sinister eyes.

"'The carriage is here,' he said.

"'Then go on; and you, my man, follow him—I will walk behind.'

"I did not venture to utter a word, and was about going out, when he called me back, exclaiming;

"'I came near forgetting a very necessary precaution. Here, my good fellow, let me tie this bandage over your eyes.'

"'Where are you taking me to?' I ventured to say, as he very coolly proceeded to tie a handkerchief tightly over my eyes.

"'That you had better not know. And hark ye, friend, ask no questions. Least said soonest mended. Move on, Tom.'

"Holding my hand to prevent me from falling, my guide led me out. I felt myself assisted into a carriage and placed in a seat. One of the men got in after me, and closed the door; the other mounted the box, and off we drove.

"I am quite sure they took a long, roundabout way and went here and there, in various directions, and came back to the same place again, to make me believe the distance was much longer than it really was. For nearly an hour we drove thus, and then the coach stopped, and I was helped out. I knew I was on the shore, for I could hear the waves dashing inward, and foaming and breaking over the rocks. Then they assisted me into a boat, which was pushed off and rowed rapidly away. The boat was large and strong, but it tossed and pitched dreadfully in the heaving sea, and I was forced to hold on with the grasp of desperation to the side.

"I am sure we were fully two hours, tossing thus on the surf, when the boat struck the shore so suddenly, that I was thrown forward on my face in the bottom. With a loud laugh of derision, the men helped me up and assisted me to land, and then conducted me up a long, slippery beach until we reached a hard road. We walked rapidly on for nearly a quarter of an hour, and then I heard a key turn in a rusty lock, and I was led into a house. Taking first the precaution of locking the door after him, my guide led me through a long hall, up a longer winding staircase, and through another hall, and up two other flights of stairs. It seemed to me he would never stop, when, at last, I heard him open a door, thrust me in, and retreat again, locking the door after him.

"My first care was to tear off the bandage and look around; but the room was so intensely black I could see nothing. The darkness could be almost felt as I thrust out my hand and essayed to walk. I had not advanced a dozen steps, when my foot slipped on some wet, slimy substance, and I fell, and struck violently against something lying on the floor. Trembling with horror, I put out my hand, and—merciful Heaven! I shudder even now to think of it—it fell on the cold, clammy face of a corpse!"

"Laws-a-massy!" ejaculated the horror-struck Mrs. Tom, as the dying man paused, every feature convulsed at the recollection.

"I think I fainted," he went on, after a pause, "for when I next recollect anything, I was supported by my masked conductor, who was sprinkling, or, rather, dashing handfuls of water in my face, and there was a light burning in the room. I looked around. There, on the floor, lay the dead body of a man, weltering in blood, which flowed from a great, frightful gash in his side!"

"The sight nearly drove me mad, for I sprang with a wild cry to my feet. But my conductor laid his hand on my shoulder and said, in a tone so fierce and stern that I quailed before him:

"Hark ye, sirrah, have done with this cowardly foolery, or, by heaven, you shall share the same fate of him you see before you! No matter what you see to-night, speak not, nor ask any questions, under peril of instant death. If you perform your duty faithfully, this shall be your reward."

As he spoke he displayed a purse filled up with bright, yellow guineas.

"Before I could reply, a shriek that seemed to come from below resounded through the room, a shriek so full of wild horror, and anguish, and despair, 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 being dragged 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 day I have never seen a more beautiful creature, notwithstanding her face was distorted with fear and horror. As she entered, her eyes fell on the form of the dead man on the floor. With supernatural strength she broke from the man who held her, and bent for an instant over the lifeless body. It sufficed to tell her he was quite dead; and then, throwing up her white arms, she fled round the room, shrieking as I never heard any living 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 the cruel grasp in which he held her.

"The man beside me said something to him in a foreign tongue—French, I think—to which 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 implements 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 refuse, I took the body by the feet, and we carried it into the inner room, which proved to be a small dark closet without a window, and with immensely thick walls. Even in my terror for my own safety, I could not repress a feeling of pity for this murdered youth—for he was only a boy—and the handsomest I ever saw.

"All this time the woman's wild shrieks were resounding through the room, growing louder and louder each moment, as she still struggled to free herself from his hold. All in vain. He forced her into the inner room, but before he could close the door she had burst out, and, clasping his knees, screamed for mercy.

"He spurned her from him with a kick of his heavy boot, and then she sprang up and spat at him like one possessed of an evil spirit. Flying to the farthest corner of the room, she raised her right hand to Heaven, crying, in a voice that might have made the stoutest heart quail:

"'I curse you! I curse you! Living, may Heaven's wrath follow my curse—dead, may it hurl you into eternal perdition! On your children and on your children's children, may——'

"With a fierce oath, he sprang upon her ere she could finish the awful words that pealed through the room like the last trump, and seizing her by the throat, hurled her headlong into the dark inner room where the murdered man lay. Then, closing the massive oaken door, and locking it, he turned to me, and speaking for the first time, commanded me, in a voice fairly convulsed with passion, to wall up the door.

"I would have prayed for mercy, but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. The man beside me saw my indecision, and, catching me by the arm, said, in a stern whisper:

"Fool! do you want to share their fate? Do as you are told!

"I shrank from the crime, but life was dear to me, and I obeyed. As men work only for their lives, I worked with those two mysterious masks looking on. All was still as the grave within that closet-door now. Once only I heard a sound as of some one trying to rise, and then a heavy fall—and I worked on with redoubled energy.

"Not a word was spoken by any of us in the deep silence of the solemn midnight, in which the awful crime was perpetrated.

"It was completed at last; where the door had been was a wall of solid masonry, which her death-cries could never penetrate.

"'It is well!' said he who appeared to me the superior. 'Give him the reward I told you of.'

"The other silently handed me the purse.

"'And now swear never to reveal what you have this night seen till your dying day!'

"'I swear!' said I, for I dared not refuse.

"'That will do. Take him away,' said the speaker, leaving the room.

"My guide blindfolded me as I had been before, and led me out, locking the door on the awful secret.

"As I had been brought up, I was led to the beach. The boat was in waiting, and I was taken away, landed, conveyed into the carriage, which for upward of half an hour drove round 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 event of that night.

"From that day my peace of mind was gone. Years passed, but it haunted me night and day, till 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 I felt ill. I felt I mast die, and wanted to come and be buried in my native land. Captain Campbell brought me here. And now that I have told all, I can die in peace. In peace—never! never until that woman's face is gone! Oh, Heaven!" he cried, raising himself up with a shriek, and pointing to the window, "she is there!"

With a scream almost as wild as his own, Mrs. Tom started up and looked.

A pale, wild, woeful 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 man. His jaw had dropped, his eyes were protruding from their sockets, and he was dead.

CHAPTER IV.
THE HAUNTED ROOM.

"What form is that?
The stony clenching of the bared teeth—
The gory socket that the balls have burst from—
I see them all,
It moves—-it moves—it rises—it comes on me."—BERTRAM.

Under the guidance of young Guy Campbell, Willard Drummond and Sibyl ascended the steep rocky path leading to Campbell Lodge. Captain Guy bounded over the rocks with the agility of a deer, while his two companions more leisurely followed.

"Yonder is my island-home, old Campbell Castle," said Sibyl, as an abrupt turn in the rough road brought them full in view of the 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 usual 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 it rusty hinges. The coarse, red sandstone of which it had been originally built, was now black with age and the many storms that had beat against it. No lights were to be seen, no smoke issued from the tall chimneys, all looked black, gloomy and deserted. 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 gate-way, 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 the ground, seemed to the superstitious mind of Sibyl, like unearthly hands waving them away. She shuddered with a chill feeling of dread, and clung closer to the arm of Drummond:

"Quite a remarkable looking old place, this," said the young man, gayly. "Really charming in its gloomy grandeur, and highly suggestive of ghosts and rats, and other vermin of a like nature," while he inwardly muttered: "Dismal old hole; even Sibyl's bright eyes can hardly recompense me for burying myself in such a rickety dungeon."

"It has not a very hospitable look, I must say," said its young mistress, with a smile; "but in spite of its forbidding aspect, I hope we will be able, by some means, to make your 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; but ere she could reply, the hall-door was thrown open, and Captain Campbell stood, hat in hand, before them.

"Welcome to Campbell Castle," he said, with gay courtesy, stepping aside to let them enter.

"Thank you," said Drummond, bowing gravely, while he glanced with some curiosity around, to see if the interior looked more inviting than the exterior.

They stood in a long, wide hall, high and spacious, which the light of the flickering candle Captain Campbell held strove in vain to illuminate. At the further extremity a winding staircase rose up, until it was lost in the gloom above. Two wide, black doors flanked the hall on either side, and Captain Campbell threw open that on the right, saying:

"This I have discovered, upon investigation to be at present the only habitable apartment in the house. Woeful are the accounts I have received from worthy Aunt Moll and her son and heir, Lemuel, of the state of the chimneys. 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 that the fire is not only completely extinguished, but the rooms filled with water."

"And what in the world are we to do, brother?" asked Sibyl, in dismay at this unpromising picture.

"Why, we must make the best we can of a bad bargain. I have sent Lem—much against his will, I must say, for the young man is disagreeably afflicted with laziness—to take the swallows' nests out of the chimney and make a fire there, while Aunt Moll does all the other et ceteras necessary for receiving as its inmate Her Majesty the Queen of the Isle. Then, as there is but one other habitable room in the house, Signor Drummond must occupy it, although it has not the most pleasant reputation in the world."

"How is that?" asked Drummond, drawing up a chair and seating himself in front of the fire, that, thanks to the exertions of Captain Campbell, was already burning brightly on the hearth.

"Why, to tell the truth, Aunt Moll and her hopeful son assert it to be haunted, as it most probably is by rats. If you are willing to trust yourself to the ghost's mercy, I can freely promise you safety from all other dangers."

"Haunted? By Jove, that's capital! I have been wishing all my life to see a genuine ghost, and lo! the time has come at last. But what manner of ghost is it, saith the legend—fair or foul, old or young, handsome or hideous?"

"On that point I am distressingly short of information. Lem's description is rather vague. He describes it as being 'higher than anything at all, with fire coming out of its eyes, long hair reaching to the ground, and dressed in white.'"

"Oh, of course!" said Drummond. "Who ever heard of a ghost that wasn't dressed in white? 'Pon my honor, I am quite enchanted at the opportunity of making the acquaintance of its ghostship."

During this conversation Sibyl had left the room "on hospitable thoughts intent," and now returned to announce that supper was already progressing rapidly—most welcome news to our hungry gentlemen.

Sibyl had taken off her hat, and now her raven curls fell in heavy tresses to her waist. In the shadow, those glittering 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 graceful, airy motion that lent a charm to the commonest action, Willard Drummond, following her with his eyes, felt a secret sense of exultation, as he thought this magnificent creature was his, and his alone. This bright, impassioned 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 in her willing ear his passionate words of love, that he was dearer to her than all the world besides? Some day he would make her his wife, and take her with him to his princely home in Virginia; and he thought, with new exultation, of the sensation this glorious planet would make among the lesser stars of his native State.

So thought and argued Willard Drummond in the first flush and delirium of love.

He did not stop to think that he had loved with even more intensity once before; that he had raved even in a like manner of another far less bright than this queenly Sibyl. He did not stop to think that even so he might love again.

No. Everything was forgotten but the intoxicating girl before him, with her sparkling face, her glorious eyes of jet, and her flashing, sun-bright hair.

From the rhapsody of passion—from the seventh heaven of his day-dreams, he was at last recalled by the voice of Sibyl herself summoning him to supper.

He looked up with a start, half inclined to be provoked at this sudden summons from his ideal world to the vulgar reality of a supper of hot-cakes, tea, and preserves. But there sat Sibyl at the head of the table, bright and smiling—beautifying even the dull routine of the tea-table with the charm of her presence. And then, too—now that this airy vision was gone—Mr. Willard Drummond began to recollect that he was very hungry, and that "dreams and visions" were, after all, very unsubstantial things, compared with the bread and butter of every-day life, degrading as the confession was.

Guy had already taken his place, so Willard took the seat his young host pointed out to him, and the business of the tea-table commenced.

When the meal was over, Aunt Moll cleared the table, and the three gathered round the fire—for, though the weather was warm, the great unaired 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 a natural consequence, upon ghosts.

Willard and Captain Campbell seemed striving to outvie each other in telling the most frightful tales, the latter taxing his imagination 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 fire burned low on the hearth, and the solitary candle guttered in the socket before going out, that our party became aware of the lateness of the hour.

"Well, we have been profitably spending the evening, I must say," remarked Captain Campbell, rising, with a laugh. "You should have been in bed an hour ago, Sibyl. Here! Aunt Moll," he cried, going to the door, "bring us lights, and show Mr. Drummond to his room."

He waited for a response, but none came, only the echo of his own voice sounded dolefully through the hall.

"Hallo! Aunt Moll, I say—Lem, bring candles," once more called Captain Campbell. Again he waited for an answer, and again none came. "Confound it!" he muttered, turning away, "the sleepy-headed pair have doubtless been in bed for the last three hours, and are as sound as the Seven Sleepers by this time."

"Never mind, Guy," said Sibyl, laughing at his rueful face, "I'll go. Aunt Moll 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 stretched out on her pallet, before the kitchen fire, asleep, she took her light, and bidding them a smiling good-night, left them to seek her own room.

And Captain Campbell, taking a candle, preceded his guest in the direction of the "haunted chamber."

Willard Drummond entered, and looked round. It was a high, wide, spacious chamber, as were all in the house, with floors, doors, and casements of dark, polished oak, black now with time and use. In the wide fire-place at one end, a fire had been burning all the evening, but only the red, smouldering embers remained now. At the other end of the room, opposite the fire, was his bed, and between them, facing the door, was a deep dormer window. The room looked cheerful and pleasant, and throwing himself into an easy, old-fashioned arm-chair 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 to give me a pretty vigorous shaking before I awake, when once I close my eyes."

"Perhaps the ghost, if in the least timorous, will not appear to so undaunted an individual as yourself. May your dreams be undisturbed! Good-night!" And placing the light on the table Captain Campbell left the room.

Willard's first care was to lock the door securely, and then carefully examine the room. There was no other means of ingress but the one by which he had entered, and the room did not seem to communicate with any other. The window was high above the ground, and firmly nailed down. Clearly, then, if the ghost entered at all it must assume its ghostly prerogative of coming through the keyhole—for there was no other means by which ghost or mortal could get in.

Satisfied with this, Willard Drummond went to bed, but in spite of all his efforts sleep would not come. Vain were all his attempts to woo the drowsy god; he could only toss restlessly from side to side, with that feeling of irritation which want of sleep produces.

The moonlight streaming in through the window filled the room with silvery radiance. The silence of death reigned around, unbroken even by the watch-dog's bark. The dull, heavy roar of the waves, breaking on the shore like far-off thunder, was the only sound to be heard. And at last, with this eerie, ghostly lullaby, Willard Drummond fell into a feverish sleep.