The grateful beverage soothed his excited nerves more speedily than all his reasoning and philosophy had done.
Drawing out his watch and perceiving it was after ten, he arose, put on his hat, and having settled his bill, was about to leave the house, when he was suddenly confronted by Captain Guy Campbell, who came running up the outer steps, laughing at something that had occurred outside.
For one moment the guilty soul of Courtney quailed before the bold, bright glance of the young captain's eye—for one moment only; the next, he looked up and met his gaze with one of deep, sullen hate.
Touching his hat coldly, the young captain passed on, and Courtney emerged into the street, all his fierce hatred and jealousy returning with fourfold bitterness at the thought of the contrast between them—he himself so ghastly, so pallid, so haggard, and this lover of his dead wife so handsome, dashing, and careless.
"Heaven's worst curses forever light upon him!" he hissed, fiercely. "That he—he who has caused me to do what I have done—should be happy, flattered, and beloved, while I—I whom he drove to madness, should be doomed to a life of torture! They tell us of a certain place—I doubted its existence once, I do so no longer, for I feel already some of its torments."
And any one seeing the demoniac look his face wore, would not have doubted his words at that instant. Entering a livery-stable, he hired a horse and gig, and immediately started in the direction of N——.
He dreaded the corning scene, and the false part he would have to act in it; and yet, as if impelled by some inward power, over which he had no control, he whipped and lashed the horse in a sort of frenzy of impatience to be there. On he flew, his horse foaming and reeking in sweat—houses, people, streets, passing with the velocity of a dream, and yet all too slow for the burning, maniac impatience that was consuming him.
He reached N——, and consigning his panting horse to the care of an innkeeper, within half a mile of the parsonage, he set out for it at a rapid walk. Ten minutes brought him to it, and in spite of his haste, he paused, as its sober, gray front and green window-shutters rose before him, while a vague thrill of nameless terror shot through him.
It was no time to hesitate now—the worst must be faced at once. Drawing his breath in hard, he approached the door and rang.
The summons was answered by Jenny. As he passed into the hall, he encountered Mrs. Brantwell coming down stairs. That good lady's pleasant, cheery face wore a look of unusual gravity as she greeted him, that for a moment startled him out of his composure.