"Very well, on that day, I shall have the happiness of coming for you. Until then, adieu."
"Good-by, Captain Campbell," said Mrs. Courtney, holding out her hand.
As she spoke, a slight noise behind her, made her turn abruptly round, and she almost shrieked aloud, as she beheld her husband—white, ghastly, and haggard—standing like a galvanized corpse, by her side. He had entered, unobserved, and approached them in time to hear their last words—to hear them make an appointment.
What other proof of her guilt, did he require? His worst suspicions were, of course, confirmed. Oh! terrible, was the look his face wore at that moment, Without a word, he turned away, and walked to the further end of the room.
Startled, shocked, and sick with undefined apprehension, Laura leaned against the table, for support. Captain Campbell's eyes followed the jealous husband, with a look, that said as plainly as words, "what does all this mean?"
"You are ill, Mrs. Courtney," he said, noticing with alarm her sudden faintness. "Allow me to ring for a glass of water."
"No, no! It is nothing," she said, passing her hand across her brow, as if to dispel a mist. "Nothing whatever," she added, rising and forcing a smile as she saw his anxious look. "Excuse me. Good night."
She hastened away, and Captain Campbell, after a moment's wondering pause, approached the spot where Willard and Sibyl stood, and touching him on the shoulder, said, somewhat impatiently:
"Come, Drummond, it's time we were off, if we go at all. Even as it is, it will be sunrise before we reach the island."
In spite of all her efforts a cloud fell on Sibyl's sunny brow at his words. The demon of Doubt was not yet wholly exorcised. The island! the name grated harshly on her ear, for Christie was there.