"As soon as possible—in a few weeks, perhaps—for I fear that we'll all soon get tired of the loneliness of the place."
"You ought to be pretty well accustomed to its loneliness by this time."
"Not I, faith! It's now three years since I have been there."
"Is it possible? I thought you Campbells were too much attached to your ancestral home to desert it so long as that."
"Well, it's a dreary place, and I have such an attachment for a wild, exciting life that positively I could not endure it. I should die of stagnation. As for Sibyl, my wild, impulsive sister, she would now as soon think of entering a convent as passing her life there."
"Yet you said it was partly by her request you were going there now?"
"Yes, she expressed a wish to show you the place." A slight flush of pleasure colored the clear face of Drummond. "I don't know what's got into Sibyl lately," continued her brother. "I never saw a girl so changed. She used to be the craziest leap-over-the-moon madcap that ever existed; now she is growing as tame as—as little Christie."
Drummond's fine eyes were fixed keenly on the frank, open face of Captain Campbell; but nothing was to be read there more than his words contained. With a peculiar smile he turned away, and said, carelessly:
"And who is this little Christie to whom you refer?"
"She's the protege of the old lady on the island—fair as the dream of an opium-eater, enchanting as a houri, and with the voice of an angel."