CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE LOVE OF A WANTON.
The home of Isabel, in Siron, was nearly as magnificent as that of Seantum in Antionum. All that wealth could do to satisfy the caprice and extravagant tastes of woman, had evidently been lavished upon Isabel by her lovers. For two days after the arrival from Antionum she had been all that could be desired by Corianton—loving, gentle, and at times sprightly. But the morning of the third day when he suggested leaving her establishment, whose luxury constantly reminded him of her former life and shame, she manifested some petulance, and replied—
"You knew who and what I was before you came here, I take it unkindly that you upbraid me for the past."
The fact was that during the night Zoram had arrived from Antionum and was filled with jealous rage. He feared the young and handsome Nephite had won the fancy of his mistress, and demanded that he should be gotten rid of.
About midday Corianton entered the apartments of Isabel and urged again that she would consent to leave Siron and go to a land where she was not known and there begin their new life.
"There is the door," she said coolly, "if you like not to stay, you may go."
"Nay, Isabel, but you promised that you would forsake all this for me!"
"And are you so simple as to believe a woman's words? I was blinded by my infatuation and half repentance, but the dream is past, I am myself again, and see we are not suited to each other; you had better return to your people, sir prophet, fall down at their feet, and seek their forgiveness."
He stood amazed—twice deceived and by this woman—twice damned in shame for a thing scarce worth his pity!
"And is this the return for my great love for you?" he asked.
"That for your love," and she threw a goblet of wine in his face. "I despise both you and your love."
Several of the servants and Zoram entering the apartment at that moment, she threw herself into the arms of the latter, saying as she kissed him, "this is my love—my prince—my king of men! Now go!" she cried, pointing to the door.
"Not I," replied Corianton; "I will not budge until I have laid him dead at my feet who set on foot the plan that brought my shame!" And he sprang at Zoram with the fury of an enraged tiger. Before he could reach him, however, he was overpowered by the servants and bound securely. Zoram had drawn his dagger, and would have killed the Nephite, but Isabel clung to him.
"No, no, you shall not slay him, he is my prey, and 'tis for me to say what shall be his fate. Nephite," she said, "our friend Korihor went into your chief city where, through sorcery, he was smitten dumb and fled from your land. He returned to us half crazed, and miserably perished. That, your people said, was a judgment of God,—a manifestation of his almighty power. Now live, return to your people to be the scorn and shame of the times, and let them know that your fall is a manifestation of Isabel's power—let it be Corianton for Korihor—Isabel against your God!"
* * *
"See that a number of servants go with him as guards and take him to the borders of the land Jershon," said Zoram. "Come, move, slaves, away with him, and be not over-tender of him in your journey!"
Two men were soon mounted, and Corianton, his hands bound behind him, was compelled to run between them, each of his guards holding him by a thong fastened about his body. All that day and night, and part of the next day they continued their journey, with occasional rests for themselves and their horses. Reaching the borders of the land of Jershon before noon of the second day, they cruelly beat their prisoner and left him, directing their course for Siron.