She flew down the long staircase, followed by Mrs. Brantwell; and, on entering the room, there they found Mrs. Courtney lying senseless on the floor, her face deluged with blood.
"Great Heavens! what has happened!" said Sibyl, turning faint and sick at the sight.
"Oh, I know," said Mrs. Brantwell, wildly, as she hurried forward and raised the slender, prostrate form. "Oh, that demon of jealousy! How many souls is it destined to torture? Sibyl, please ring the bell."
"But what does this mean? I do not understand," said Sibyl, as she obeyed.
"Why, this poor child's husband is crazy with jealousy—I have observed it, though she thought I did not."
"Heaven be merciful! he cannot have struck her?" said Sibyl, white with horror.
"Oh, I do not know; but jealousy will make a man do anything—commit murder. It has done it before now, and will again. Jenny," she said, as the mulatto servant entered, "tell Tom to go instantly for the doctor, and then come back and help me to carry this poor lady up stairs."
The alarmed girl flew to obey; and after dispatching the boy for the doctor, hurried back and aided Mrs. Brantwell in conveying the slight form of Mrs. Courtney to her room.
Then, with some tepid water, she washed off the blood and disclosed a deep gash right above the eye, which continued bleeding so profusely as to awaken fears for her life.
"Oh, I fear she will bleed to death! Would that the doctor were here!" said Mrs. Brantwell, wringing her hands in deepest distress.