"Oh, yes."
And again Christie blushed vividly, as she recollected how she had been caught singing.
"Where's Miss Sibyl and Master Guy?" inquired Mrs. Tom.
"Miss Sibyl has gone to N—— with the clergyman's family, and will not return for a week; and Captain Campbell has gone to Westbrook, where his vessel is undergoing repairs. So I am left all alone, and came to pay my respects to you."
"Then you'll stay and spend the evenin'?" said Mrs. Tom, smiling complacently.
Mr. Drummond professed his willingness; and the little widow, delighted at the condescension, set about preparing tea instantly, assisted by Christie, whose wild, shy glances were bent on his face whenever she fancied herself unobserved. Half pleased, half afraid of him at first, she was reserved and timid; but as this wore off, he drew her into conversation, and, to his surprise, found her intelligent and well-educated. This Mrs. Tom accounted for, by saying she had gone to school for the last five years at Westbrook, residing there with the friend she had now been visiting.
The evening passed away with the rapidity of magic. Christie, after much solicitation, consented to sing for him; and if anything was needed to fairly enchant him, that sweet, clear voice would have done it. Then, too, Carl added to the general hilarity, by drawing out a rusty Jew's-harp, and playing a favorite tune of his own composition. Not once during the evening did he think of Sibyl; her dark, resplendant face, and wild fierce, black eyes, were forgotten for the golden locks and sweet, fair face of blue-eyed Christie—this dainty island Peri.
The hour for leaving came all too soon. As he reluctantly rose to go, he pressed the hand Christie extended, to his lips, with such passionate ardor that the blood flushed to her very temples, but not with pleasure. Ere he left, Mrs. Tom cordially invited him to visit her house while he remained on the island—an invitation he was not loth in accepting.
Christie stood at the window, watching his tall, elegant form as he walked toward the castle in the bright, clear moonlight.
"I like him, Cousin Christie; don't you?" said Carl, when he had gone.