"Miss Sibyl, honey! for de Lord's sake, don't look at me wid such wild eyes. I 'spec's she's witched him. I can't 'count for it no other way," said Aunt Moll, trembling before the awful wrath of those blazing eyes. "I on'y says what I knows. He's all the time talkin' 'bout her to hisself, when he's 'lone."
"It cannot be true; he dare not deceive me!" almost shrieked Sibyl. "What proof have you of this? Speak! speak!"
"Miss Sibyl, honey! you may 'sassinate me ef you's a mind to; but I's tellin' de trufe. Sence eber you left, dey ain't a minute apart. Dey've sailed in de riber after night, an' gone trampin' in de woods in de day time; an' I's heered him callin' her his 'dear Chrissy,' when he's 'lone. I knows, chile, 'taint pleasant, nor likewise 'greeable for you to hear dis; but I talks for your good, honey—'deed I does."
But now the first fierce gust of passion was over, and pale and tottering, Sibyl leaned against the chimney-piece—her arm on the mantel, her head bowed upon it, shuddering, sinking, collapsed. All his neglect, that had puzzled her so long, was accounted for now. She was forgotten—deserted, for this island girl!
So long she remained in that fixed, rigid attitude, that Aunt Moll began to grow alarmed; and she was on the point of commencing a consoling speech, beginning with: "Miss Sibyl, honey," when the young girl lifted her head, and, asked in a hollow voice:
"Is this—this girl on the island still?"
"Yes, chile, ob course she is—down to Miss Tom's."
For a moment longer Sibyl stood, gazing steadily before her, with those wild, fierce, burning eyes; her face perfectly colorless, save that two dark-purple spots blazed in and out upon it like burning coals; her teeth set; her hands clenched. All the humiliation, the shame, the agony of being deserted, rushed, like a burning torrent, through her mind. And with it came a fierce, demoniacal hatred of her idol, and a deadly wish to be revenged.
Starting suddenly up, she fled up the stairs, through the long, unlighted hall, out of the front door, and took the path leading to Mrs. Tom's.
The bright moonlight lit all around with a pale, radiant glory. And, standing near a rock, commanding an extensive view of the sea, Christie stood, enjoying the beauty of the night, when suddenly a fierce grasp was laid on her shoulder, and she looked up. Her vision was realized. Sibyl Campbell stood glaring upon her, with her fierce, wild, black eyes, her long hair streaming down her back, like an aroused tigress preparing to spring.