CHAPTER XIII.
THE MEETING.
"Thou mayest hold a serpent by the tongue,
A chafed lion by the mortal paw,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,
Than cross this love of mine."
Trembling, paralyzed, shrinking with terror and superstitious awe, as she recollected her vision, Christie stood quailing before that dark, passionate glance.
And, glaring upon her with a hatred and jealousy that for the time "swept her soul in tempests," and inspired her with a momentary frenzy, Sibyl stood, transfixing her with those wild, fierce eyes. With one glance she took in all her rival's extraordinary beauty, far surpassing even what she feared; and the sight, to her passionate heart, was like oil poured upon flame.
"So," she hissed, at length, through her closed teeth, "pretty Miss Christie has found a lover during my absence. Girl, take care! You have begun a dangerous game, but the end has not come!"
Her words broke the spell of terror that held Christie dumb. And now, noticing her disordered attire, and wild, disheveled hair, she said, in surprise and entreaty:
"Miss Sibyl, what has happened? What have I done? I did not know you were on the island."
"No; I am aware of that," said Sibyl, with a hard, bitter laugh. "Oh, it is a wondrous pity I should have come so soon to spoil the sport! You and your dainty lover thought yourselves secure—thought Sibyl Campbell far away. But again I say to you, beware! for 'twere better for you to tamper with a lioness robbed of her young than with the passions of this beating, throbbing heart!"
She looked like some priestess of doom denouncing all mankind as she stood there, with her long, black, streaming hair, her wild, burning, passionate eyes, her face white, rigid, and ghastly, save where the two purple spots still blazed in and out on either cheek.