The little widow rose, and came smiling and cheery to the door to welcome her guest.
"Well, Miss Sibyl, I'm glad to see you. Walk in and sit down. I thought when you and Master Guy came home from furrin parts you'd stay comfortably on the island; but, 'stead o' that, we never see you no more nor if you was in Canada or Rooshia, or any other outlandish place. How's the captain, and that Mr. Drummond?"
"They were both very well when I saw them last," said Sibyl, smiling slightly, as she took the proffered seat, from which Mrs. Tom had been whisking some invisible particles of dust with her apron. "I hope you have been quite well yourself, Mrs. Tom?"
"Oh, tol'bul," said Mrs. Tom, complacently. "Fact is, you know, I hain't no time to be sick; it's only rich folks, what's well off, can afford to indulge in sickness. So you've had a great fortune left you, Miss Sibyl, I've hearn tell!"
"Yes; Guy and I have received a legacy."
"Well, the Lord never does forget his critters; and every now and then something's allers sure to happen. I've allers remarked that myself. I s'pose you don't intend to stay here much longer, Miss Sibyl?"
"I rather think not. We will leave you to keep the island, Mrs. Tom. But where is your niece this morning? I do not see her!"
"She went out this morning before any of us got up, and hasn't come back yet. I'm getting rale onasy," said Mrs. Tom, anxiously, getting up and going to the door. "I thought she had gone to see you."
Sibyl gave a sudden start, and grew deathly pale as she thought of the handkerchief, the wild cry of murder, and the men leaving the island during the night. A terrible presentiment flashed across her mind, and, sick and dizzy, she fell back in her chair and pressed her hand over her heart.
"My gracious! Miss Sibyl, what's the matter? Are you sick?" said Mrs. Tom, turning suddenly, and seeing with alarm the unaccountable paleness of the young lady. "Here's some camphire; smell of it, or ye'll faint."