And the hollow eyes glared like those of a maniac. Even the taunting little wife quailed before it.
"Ugh! 'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' what a look that was. Really, Mr. Courtney, you are a ghoul, a vampire—a Vandal, a Goth! You'll scare the life out of me some day, if you don't take care. I wish to mercy you could be a little more reasonable, and not make such a goose of yourself!" said Mrs. Courtney, edging away from him.
"Take care, madam; it is not safe to trifle with me!"
"Well, who in the name of mercy, is trifling with you? Not I, I'm sure. And now, Mr. Courtney, here comes Captain Campbell; and do, for goodness sake! drop this subject, and don't make a laughing-stock of yourself and me, too. What under the sun would the man think if he heard you?"
"Do not fear, Mrs. Courtney; I will not interrupt your tete-a-tete with the gallant captain," said her husband, rising, with a ghastly smile. "I leave you to his care, satisfied you will make the best possible use of your time."
"That I will!" said his irritated spouse, turning her back indignantly on him, and greeting Captain Campbell with a smile.
Thus, in that scene of gayety, there were at least two tempest-tossed, jealous, passionate hearts—Edgar Courtney and Sibyl Campbell.
All the evening she had watched the door with burning, feverish impatience. Why, oh! why, did he not come.
Her heart was swelling, throbbing, as if it would escape from its frail tenement. She was growing wild, mad, with impatience and excitement. And yet, in spite of all her watching, he had entered unobserved by her.
At last, wrought up to an uncontrollable pitch of excitement, that was beginning to betray itself in every feverish action, she fled from the crowd that surrounded her, only anxious to be alone, feeling half crazed with her throbbing head and brow. A conservatory, cool, shady, and deserted, was near. Hither she went; and pushing open the door, entered.