CHAPTER NINE.
ISABEL.
As the grey light of morning struggled through the heavy curtained windows of the saloon, Corianton awoke. For some time he lay half bewildered, unable to call to mind what had happened, or where he was, conscious only of the heavy, dull pain in his head. At last, however, the revels of the past night were conjured up by his recollection; but awakening consciousness brought with it a sickening sense of shame. He was lying on a cushioned divan in one of the many recesses opening into the saloon, and near him in a heavy stupor, on the floor, was a young Lamanite girl. He arose and staggered from the recess to seek the open air. In the saloon the lights in the cressets were burning low, but giving out sufficient of their pale, yellow light to reveal the general disorder that prevailed. Fruits, drinking bowls, withered flowers and ottomans lay scattered about promiscuously. The banquet table itself with its burden of fruits and wines and silver furniture, had been overturned, doubtless in the melee which followed the quarrel, of which Corianton had but an indistinct recollection. Near the door leading into the hall were two slaves sleeping in each other's arms—worn out by the services of the past night.
Corianton wended his way through all this debris and at last reached the garden; but neither the cool morning air, the song of birds nor the perfume of flowers brought relief to his aching heart or troubled mind.
He followed the same path down which Joan had led him the night before to the margin of the lake, and stood under the same trees where her loveliness first attracted his attention. Again he saw her half reclining against the tree, once more heard her sweet voice deriding his faith and mocking at the bondage it brought with it—"What, are you not free? Are you in bondage?" she had said; and the humiliation he had experienced by the taunting question still hurt his pride. He sought a bower near at hand, and stretching himself upon a seat beneath it, was soon lost in a fitful slumber.
He was suddenly awakened by some one in a subdued but hurried tone calling his name. Shaking off his sleep at last, he was surprised and not a little troubled at seeing his brother Shiblon standing over him.
"Wake, brother, wake and leave this horrible place!" The speaker was pale and evidently much excited. "Come brother, in the name of God shake off this slumber, and come with me before it is too late!"
"Why Shiblon, what's amiss?"
"Alas, I fear thou art amiss; and your bad deeds are like to bring trouble to us all. Your association with harlots in this place is the talk of the whole city, and everywhere we are threatened with violence—we can no longer preach to the people since they judge us all by your conduct, and condemn us all as hypocrites and bid us be gone. The other brethren have started to leave the city, but I came in search of you; now brother, come—in God's name come! Come, let us leave together; by a penitent life you may yet cancel this great sin—you are young—not yet hardened in vice; I pray you, come!"
Corianton stood before his brother bewildered; to him his speech was incoherent—wild. "Shiblon," said he, "I have not associated with harlots, and though the revels of last night were indiscreet, I am free from such sin as you impute to me."