"It's no sich thing," she cried, in a voice louder and sharper than she was in the habit of using to any one but the unfortunate Carl. "I seen it all with my two blessed eyes, and nobody's goin' to make me believe it was my 'magination. 'Magination, indeed!" continued the old lady, in a tone of profound contempt. "Thank my divine Master, I never was troubled with 'magination since the day I was born, and 'tain't likely I'd begin now in my old age o' life. I allers hid a great respect for you, Master Guy; but I'm a poor, lone 'ooman, and can't stand to be onsulted by nobody. I hain't no doubt you mean well, but I like to hev people b'lieve me when I do tell the truth. Scat, you hussy! afore I twist your neck for you."
The latter part of this oration was addressed to Trot, the mottled cat, and was accompanied by a kick, which ejected that unoffending member of society out of doors, much quicker than was at all agreeable. Captain Campbell, quite unprepared for this burst of eloquence, listened in amazement, and seized the first opportunity, when angry Mrs. Tom paused for breath, to humbly apologize for his offense.
"My dear Mrs. Tom," said the young captain, humbly, "I had not the remotest intention of offending you, and most deeply regret having done so. I have fallen into a bad habit, of late, of doubting everything; and really this story appeared so improbable, that I think I may be pardoned for not yielding it full credit on the spot. Come, now, my dear madam," he continued, seeing the cloud still hanging on Mrs. Tom's honest face, "let's be friends still; and I promise for the future to believe everything you choose to tell me, no matter what it is."
Good Mrs. Tom was not proof against the insinuating tone of Master Guy, who had always been her favorite; so the cloud disappeared, and her own cheery smile once more beamed forth.
Having arranged that Lem should come down and prepare a grave during the morning, Captain Campbell left the cottage, and went in search of Mr. Drummond and his sister to tell them what he had heard.
He found them down on the shore. Sibyl stood on a high cliff, her dress fluttering in the morning breeze, her hat off, and her long, glittering, jetty tresses waving behind her like a banner. The wind that came sweeping across the waters had deepened the glow on her crimson cheeks and lips, and sent a living light into her glorious eyes.
Willard Drummond stood beneath, gazing at her as a poet might gaze on the living realization of his most beautiful dreams. Captain Campbell shrugged his shoulders expressively as he saw his impassioned glance, and thought inwardly of the confession he had once made to him of there being but one woman in the world worth loving.
"Well, Sibyl, one would think you were attitudinizing for the stage," said Captain Campbell, dryly, as he approached.
Sibyl laughed gayly, as she sprang down on the white, level sands between her brother and lover.
"I was only looking out for a sail, which I failed to discover," she replied.