wasneither. The figure that had passed into the room swiftly andnoiselessly while I had for an instant turned to question Dora was thatof a living person--a person whose presence roused within my heart atumult of wonder and of joy.
It was Sybil!
Yes, there was the delicately-poised head, the same flawlessly beautifulface that had entranced me in the little Southern mountain town, thesame candid forehead, the same half-parted lips, the same dimpled cheeksthat I had so often kissed with a mad passion such as I had neverexperienced before or since. She wore a grey silk gown; at her throatwas one simple rose of deepest crimson. Her little white hand bore awedding ring--the one I had placed upon it--the lace on her skirt andbodice, the delicate pale tint of her face, bore testimony to theelegant and opulent indolence of her existence.
Yet was she not dead? Had I not been present when her soul and bodyparted? Had I not stood before the spot where she slept beneath awillow planted years ago by pious hands that had raised a neighbouringtomb? That willow had, I remembered, never grown vigorous and free inthe strength of its sap. I knew how sadly its yellow foliage drooped,the ends of its branches hung down like heavy, weary tears. Irecollected how, when first I saw it, I had thought that its roots wentdown and absorbed from my dead love's heart all the bitterness of a lifethrown away. And the roses near her grave bore large blossoms as whiteas milk and of a deep red. The roots penetrated to the depths of thecoffin, the sweet-smelling blooms took their whiteness from a virginbosom and their crimson from a wounded heart.
I had held her cold hand and kissed her icy lips. Yet here she stoodbefore me in the flesh, grave-eyed, dove-robed, and something wan andpale, an inner beauty shining from her face.
At last my tongue's strings became loosened. I stammered her name. Foranswer she uttered in a well-remembered voice, one word:
"Stuart!"
Next instant with a shriek of joy she was locked in my embrace, and myeager lips pressed passionately her dimples, those nests for kisses. Inthose joyful, dreamy moments we left remembrances unuttered, and nothingmingled with the sound of our kisses but a whispered word from Dora.When one finds living and well one's love who was long ago lowered tothe grave there is no need for the voice; a single look says more than along speech.
Through the open windows the garden looked quite gay. The lawn grewthick and strong with its well-kept beds of crimson, white, scarlet andblue. Fresh air came in abundance from the open country, with puffs ofall the pleasant perfumes of the flowers. The sweet scents seemed tofill Sybil with lassitude. She leant upon my arm quite faint, as if thesmell had sent her off to sleep with love.
I glanced at her pale cheek and shell-like ear as her handsome headpillowed itself upon my breast. So delicate they seemed that, were itnot for the rising and falling of her bosom, I should have believed shewas of wax. But presently, struggling with the emotion that she hadstriven in vain to suppress, she raised her blue eyes to mine. Theywere still clear and trustful, child-like in their purity. I fancied Icould read her reverie in their blue depths as she smiled upon me withsad sweetness.
"At last!" she murmured dreamily, her little hand gripping my armconvulsively. "At last you have come, Stuart!"
Her words caused a flood of memories to surge through my brain, and asshe stood before me still pre-occupied, still mysterious, I felt myselfdoubting, even then, the reality of my joy. But, no! her presence was atangible, inexplicable fact. Even at that moment a breath of violetsfilled my nostrils and again stirred my memory. Away in the Pyreneeslong ago her chiffons had exuded that odour. Was it not her favouriteperfume? The violets of spring, those modest blossoms snatched from thewoods to droop and die in the hands of London flower-sellers, had alwaysbrought back to me memories of brief summer days when we had wandered upthose distant mountain paths side by side, hand in hand, like children.I had thought of those distant things amidst the dust and clatter andgaiety of the great city, and ofttimes bought a bunch of those flowers,offspring of the dew and rising sun, and wore them in my coat so that Imight feast my full on the bitter recollections of those days bygonewhen I had first seen the sun of a woman's wondrous beauty.
But in my sudden ecstasy at finding her actually in my embrace,enraptured by her beauty and transported by her passionate kisses, Itrod enchanted ground, knowing not what words fell from my lips.
Our questions were naive and tender, our explanations brief and full ofregrets and surprises. Happy in each other's love, we uttered no wordof reproach.
Suddenly I was conscious that Dora had approached, and was speaking.
"I bring him to you, Sybil, because the secret may not be longerpreserved," she said slowly, with emphasis. "It has been sought to fixguilt upon an innocent man who, fearing to betray you, has allowed thenewspapers to adjudge him a murderer. Speak, then; tell Stuart, whohas, I know, never ceased to love you and revere your memory, the secretthat has sealed your lips, the secret which when revealed will bring aterrible Nemesis upon the guilty ones."
In a moment Sybil withdrew herself from my embrace; then with a suddenimpulse she took a few hurried steps forward, and grasping the hand ofthe woman who had thus spoken, exclaimed:
"Dora, forgive me! I had imagined that you were my rival. I was toldthat Stuart was your lover, and had positive proof that you had on morethan one occasion gone to his rooms alone. I believed that after he hadsupposed me dead he loved you, but I find that the same lying,scandalous tongue that wounded my reputation tried to wound yours.Instead of my enemy, I know you are still my devoted friend. Forgiveme, Dora--forgive me!"
"Say no more, Sybil," the other answered sympathetically. "All that isnow of the past. Stuart and myself have, it is true, been friends--true, platonic friends--and were it not for his exertions on my behalfyou would not to-day be in a position to ruthlessly cast off thetrammels that have fettered you, preventing you occupying your trueposition as his wife. Without fear you may now lay bare the secret ofyour life and divulge facts that will thwart the evil machinations ofyour enemies. You have waited long and been faithful, both of you, butyour triumph will be swift, crushing, complete."
"Yes," said my well-beloved, "I have already heard of the suspicion thathas fallen upon Captain Bethune, and--"
"Bethune!" I cried, remembering her letter that I had found in hisrooms. "Tell me, do you know him?"
"I do, Stuart," she answered, turning her soft eyes to mine. "He hasbeen my friend, and from time to time has brought me here, in my lonelyretreat, news of the one man I loved--yourself."
"But Markwick is trying to escape," Dora exclaimed quickly.
"Then he has again deceived me!" Sybil cried. "He shall not elude us!No! the day of denunciation has dawned, and I will lay bare the strangefacts so that punishment may fall upon the guilty ones," and she placedher hand upon her breast where her heart throbbed wildly. "It is awretched story of duplicity and crime, Stuart," she added, standingbefore me with eyes downcast. "When you have heard my confession,perhaps--perhaps you will spurn and hate me for bringing upon you allthis terrible anxiety and unhappiness; but I swear before Heaven thatsecrecy was imperative, that I have been under the control of one eviland unscrupulous, who has held my destiny for life or death. Yes, yes,it is the ghastly truth," she said, her voice dropping to ascarcely-audible whisper. "I deceived you even though I loved you, yetsince that time I have lived tortured by a remorse that knows no night,driven almost to desperation by a knowledge of your unhappiness and aninability to tell you that I still lived."
"Why were you unable to communicate with me?" I asked in wonder.
"Because I dared not. Ah! Do not judge me prematurely!" she pleaded,clutching my arm. "When you know the truth, you will see there areextenuating circumstances. Tell me that you will hear me to the endbefore you condemn me as an adventuress."
"Sybil," I said, as calmly as I could, my fingers closing over hers, "Ilove you as I have always loved you. Explain everything, let me act foryou in settling accounts with th
ose who have held you in bondage, andthen, when all is plain, when the secret of this strange life of yoursis explained, then will we resume that perfect but abruptly terminatedhappiness of the old never-to-be-forgotten days at Luchon."
"Ah, Stuart! I knew you loved me!" she cried, dinging to mepassionately. "I knew that you would hear me, because you are loyal andgenerous to a woman, as you always were. Yes; now, owing to acombination of circumstances, I am at last free to speak, and willconceal nothing. Our enemies parted us cruelly, deceiving us both, andacting with a cunning that was amazing. Therefore you, the principalsufferer, shall have the satisfaction of exposing their trickery andbringing them to justice. Even upon you, at one time, they heapedsuspicion so that you might be made their scapegoat, while againstmyself the