"In Liverpool I felt ill. I felt I mast die, and wanted to come and be buried in my native land. Captain Campbell brought me here. And now that I have told all, I can die in peace. In peace—never! never until that woman's face is gone! Oh, Heaven!" he cried, raising himself up with a shriek, and pointing to the window, "she is there!"
With a scream almost as wild as his own, Mrs. Tom started up and looked.
A pale, wild, woeful face, shrouded in wild black hair, was glued for a moment to the glass, and then was gone.
Paralyzed with terror, Mrs. Tom turned to the sick man. His jaw had dropped, his eyes were protruding from their sockets, and he was dead.
CHAPTER IV.
THE HAUNTED ROOM.
"What form is that?
The stony clenching of the bared teeth—
The gory socket that the balls have burst from—
I see them all,
It moves—-it moves—it rises—it comes on me."—BERTRAM.
Under the guidance of young Guy Campbell, Willard Drummond and Sibyl ascended the steep rocky path leading to Campbell Lodge. Captain Guy bounded over the rocks with the agility of a deer, while his two companions more leisurely followed.
"Yonder is my island-home, old Campbell Castle," said Sibyl, as an abrupt turn in the rough road brought them full in view of the mansion-house. "It is nearly three years now since I have seen it."
Both paused as if involuntarily to contemplate it. Years and neglect had performed their usual work of destruction on the lodge. The windows were broken in many places, and the great gate before the house, hung useless and fallen off it rusty hinges. The coarse, red sandstone of which it had been originally built, was now black with age and the many storms that had beat against it. No lights were to be seen, no smoke issued from the tall chimneys, all looked black, gloomy and deserted. The swallows had built their nests in the eaves and ruined gables, and even the tall, dark, spectral pines that formed an avenue to the dilapidated gate-way, had a forlorn and dismal look. In the pale, bright moonlight, the ruined homestead of the Campbells looked cold, bleak, and uninviting. Even the long, gloomy shadows from the trees, as they lay on the ground, seemed to the superstitious mind of Sibyl, like unearthly hands waving them away. She shuddered with a chill feeling of dread, and clung closer to the arm of Drummond: