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Teacher Education,
Learning Innovation and Accountability
Series Editor: Claire Wyatt‐Smith
Professional Support
Beyond Initial
Teacher Education
Pedagogical Discernment and
the Influence of Out-of-Field
Teaching Practices
Teacher Education, Learning Innovation
and Accountability
Series Editor
Claire Wyatt-Smith, Institute for Learning Sciences and Teacher Education,
Australian Catholic University, Brisbane, QLD, Australia
This book series offers research-informed discussion and analysis of teacher
preparation, certification and continuing professional learning and the related
practice and policy drivers for change and reform. The series fosters and
disseminates research about teaching as a profession of choice while offering a
unique link to the realities of pre-service experience in workforce preparation. It
takes account of research on teacher formation that opens up issues not routinely
connected: what teachers need to know and be able to do, and who they are, namely
the person of the teacher and their capabilities in contributing to students’ personal
development and wellbeing. This goal provides a current, practical and international
view of the future of initial teacher education programs.
123
Anna Elizabeth Du Plessis
Australian Catholic University
Brisbane, QLD, Australia
This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd.
The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721,
Singapore
… higher mental function was external and
social before it was internal. It was once a
social relationship between two people.
In the last decade, international concerns about the preparedness of young teachers
to teach have been raised by researchers. Among other factors, this attention has
been prompted by the high attrition rates of early career teachers in many parts
of the world. The burning question currently is about possible approaches to
entering into teaching and the instructional quality of these early career teachers as
well as experienced teachers teaching unfamiliar subjects.
Internationally, there exist many models for the introduction of early career
teachers into teaching, such as observational learning, internships, micro-teaching,
field experiences, self-evaluations and mentoring. However, little empirical evidence
exists about the effect of these approaches and especially their efficacy in preparing
early career teachers and experienced teachers in challenging teaching positions.
Combining a bottom-up and top-down approach, this book provides the per-
ceptions of early career and experienced teachers about their preparedness to teach
specific subjects and year levels and their reflections on the possibilities to grow
offered to them. To complement this view, school leaders’ perspectives on the
offered professional support are included.
This book has the potential to offer new directions for the induction of early
career teachers into teaching practice, analysing the pitfalls of current approaches
and offering insight into new possibilities. Teacher preservice and in-service edu-
cation need to be changed worldwide. This book offers a description of the state
of the art and proposes further developments, which has the potential to develop
new models for early career teachers’ induction into teaching.
Prof. Gabriele Kaiser, Ph.D. is a full professor of mathematics education at the Faculty of
Education, University of Hamburg and a professorial fellow at the Institute of Learning Sciences
and Teacher Education, ACU. Until recently, she held the position of Vice-Dean of the Faculty of
Education (2010–2016).
ix
Preface
xi
xii Preface
pressure to achieve expected results. Noticing and knowing these challenges guide
decision-making about professional support to develop strategies to effectively
manage these challenges. Furthermore, there is global attention to issues such as
(i) the quality of initial teacher education and how it effectively prepares future
teachers for the workforce, (ii) the preparedness of graduate teachers to apply and
adjust their knowledge according to diverse contexts of schools and classrooms and
(iii) the vacuum around ongoing quality professional learning and development
programs offered once teachers enter the workplace (Ludlow, et al., 2008). This
book steps into this space emphasising the (i) real-life experiences that await
teachers in the workforce, (ii) accountability and responsibility to carry forward
what was started in the initial teacher education phase of teacher preparation and
(iii) essence of teacher well-being embraced by focused professional support.
Teaching and learning are social encounters. This has been accentuated by
Vygotsky’s social constructivism views which acknowledge the value of enthusi-
astically engaged teachers who know their students’ capacities. The atmosphere or
dispositions embedded in the teaching and learning environment influence students’
confidence to explore being, knowing and thinking, reaching towards deep cog-
nitive application in different contexts. Teachers have the responsibility to guide
students through their learning experience. Teachers’ initial teacher education
(ITE) describes the preliminary, beginning phase of prospective teacher preparation
and refers to the first step in preparing teachers for what it means to be sensitively
and enthusiastically engaged in students’ development. This leaves the expectation
that more preparation will follow.
This book links ITE to the workplace and highlights the challenges teachers face
at work and the support that is offered as an addition or extension to ITE, especially
for those assigned to complex teaching positions. Who takes accountability and
responsibility for the quality of ‘ongoing professional education’ or the develop-
ment of teachers? Luke, Luke and Mayer (2000) discuss the debate surrounding the
reinvention and re-envisioning of teacher education. The significant expectation
that ITE will be able to prepare prospective teachers for the teaching profession so
that they will be ready for what is waiting for them in the workplace is under the
magnifying glass. This implies that stakeholders in education are responsible for
becoming actively engaged in ongoing professional support for teachers, of which
teacher encouragement (collegial and collaborative) is an integral part. The extent to
which they do so influences the success of professional learning and development
(Power, 2011). Focused and connected professional supports build a well-prepared
and well-maintained teaching workforce. This book gives prominence to classroom
realities and professional growth beyond ITE. I urge decision-makers involved in
teachers’ professional support to reflect on the truths from the field.
Chapter 1 focuses on education quality improvement, accountability and the role
of initial teacher education linked to further professional support. I discuss targeted
professional support and its primary aim and objectives, underpinned by supporting
theories and concepts of capacity building.
Preface xiii
References
Basson, C., Van der Westhuizen, P., & Nieman, G. (2004). Organisational theory. In P. Van der
Westhuizen (Ed.), Effective educational leadership. (12th ed). Cape Town: ABC Press.
Ingersoll, R. (2003). Who controls teachers’ work. Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.
Luke, A., Luke, C., & Mayer, D. (2000). Redesigning teacher education. Teaching Education, 11(1),
5–11. doi: 10.1080/10476210050020318
Power, A. (2011). Against short term professional learning. Issues in Educational Research, 21(3),
295–309.
The Teaching and Learning International Survey (TALIS) 2013. (2014). Main findings from the
survey and implications for education and training policies in Europe. European Commission.
Education and Training.
Van Manen, M. (2016). The tact of teaching: The meaning of pedagogical thoughtfulness. New
York: Routledge.
Reflection
Prof. Robyn M. Gillies, Ph.D. currently holds a professorial position at the University of
Queensland, School of Education, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences. Professor Robyn
Gillies’ major research interests are in the learning sciences, classroom discourses, small group
processes, classroom instruction, student behaviour and disability. Professor Robyn Gillies has
worked extensively in both primary and secondary schools to embed STEM education initiatives
into the science curriculum.
xv
Contents
xvii
xviii Contents
But Sibyl Campbell, loving and hating alike with utter abandon—going
from one extreme to the other, without knowing what a medium meant—
knew nothing of the thoughts that set the heart she prized even above her
hope of heaven, beating so tumultuously against her own. Casting all doubt
to the winds, resolving she would not believe him guilty—the delicious joy
of knowing and believing she was still beloved filled her heart. And so for
the present she gave herself wholly up to this new happiness. But how long
was this delicious joy destined to last?
CHAPTER XVII.
"Now, my dear Mrs. Courtney, you really must not think of going back
to the island, any more. Sibyl is to remain with me, for a week or two
longer, and you, positively, must stay, for, let me tell you, I have taken a
desperate fancy to you, during the last few hours. Then, too, Sibyl, poor
child! has seemed ill and out of spirits for the past few days—-and the
presence of your lively little ladyship will tend to restore her to
cheerfulness, again. So, Mrs. Courtney, you will just consider it settled; and,
yourself, and husband must remain my guests for the present."
"He will not object, my dear!" broke in Mrs. Brantwell, who was
comfortably reposing in a large arm-chair. "He is looking ill, yet, and I don't
believe his wound has been half attended to. Just go and tell him, that I say
he must stay. I would go myself, only there is a crowd here, waiting to take
their leave, and make their adieus. Mrs. Courtney, it's not possible—you do
not hesitate. What earthly attraction can there be for you, in that dreary,
little isle?"
"Oh, Mrs. Brantwell! it's not that; indeed, I shall be delighted to accept
your kind offer; but, Mr. Courtney is sometimes so queer, and has such
strange notions about intruding on people, that I do not know——"
And Mrs. Brantwell gave Laura a facetious poke in the ribs, and went
off into one of her mellow laughs.
She found him waiting for her, in the ante-room, all ready for starting.
"What has delayed you so long?" he asked, sharply. "I have been
waiting here this half hour. I have sent one of the servants to hire a cab to
take us over to Westport—where for the present we can engage lodgings,
instead of returning to Campbell's Isle—a place I never want to see again.
Come, make haste and get ready."
"Not going to leave? What do you mean, madam?" he asked, still more
sharply.
"What I say. Are you really crazy enough, Mr. Courtney, to think I
would undertake a two-hours' ride over to Westport, after being up all
night? Catch me at it! I have too much regard for my good looks to
undertake any such journey."
"Ah! you wish to return to the island?" he said, setting his teeth hard.
"Captain Campbell, of course, will accompany you?"
"How provoking! Every word I say is converted into food for jealousy.
No, I don't want to go back to the island. I'm going to spend a week here
with Mrs. Brantwell."
"You shall not stay here. You shall come with me to Westport."
"Shall I, indeed? They'll have sharp eyes that will see me in Westport
for another week, at least. Come, Edgar, have sense, and stay here for a few
days."
"Take care of what? I'm not afraid of you, Edgar Courtney!" she said,
with flashing eyes. "Don't threaten, or you may drive me to say things I
should be sorry for afterward."
"Take care that it is not the last!" he hissed, with gleaming eyes.
And turning abruptly around, the indignant little lady quitted the room,
leaving her spouse to his own not very pleasant reflections.
* * * * *
The company, by this time, had nearly all departed. Drummond, hat in
hand, stood near the window, talking in low tones to Sibyl, whose face was
now bright, radiant, unclouded.
Mr. and Mrs. Brantwell were still holding a parting conversation with
some of their friends, among whom, stood young Stafford, watching Mr.
Drummond, with a ferocious glance.
"Well, Mrs. Courtney, are you not going to return with us to the island?"
"No, I think not," said Laura. "I have accepted our kind hostess'
invitation, to remain with her a week."
"Weil, I have no doubt you will find it pleasanter than our lonesome
isle, though, we poor unfortunates, left behind will find it doubly dreary,
now, that it is deprived of your bright presence."
"Your humble servant hears but to obey. But, my dear Mrs. Courtney,
you must not desert us, altogether. Will you not visit the island some day
during the week?"
"Perhaps I may; indeed, it's very likely I shall. I want to see Mrs. Tom,
before I start for home; so, if I can prevail on Miss Campbell to accompany
me, your Island will be blessed with my 'bright presence,' once more."
As she spoke, a slight noise behind her, made her turn abruptly round,
and she almost shrieked aloud, as she beheld her husband—white, ghastly,
and haggard—standing like a galvanized corpse, by her side. He had
entered, unobserved, and approached them in time to hear their last words
—to hear them make an appointment.
What other proof of her guilt, did he require? His worst suspicions
were, of course, confirmed. Oh! terrible, was the look his face wore at that
moment, Without a word, he turned away, and walked to the further end of
the room.
"You are ill, Mrs. Courtney," he said, noticing with alarm her sudden
faintness. "Allow me to ring for a glass of water."
"No, no! It is nothing," she said, passing her hand across her brow, as if
to dispel a mist. "Nothing whatever," she added, rising and forcing a smile
as she saw his anxious look. "Excuse me. Good night."
In spite of all her efforts a cloud fell on Sibyl's sunny brow at his words.
The demon of Doubt was not yet wholly exorcised. The island! the name
grated harshly on her ear, for Christie was there.
Willard Drummond saw it, and his resolution was taken. He felt it
would not do to return to the island just now.
"I regret having kept you waiting," he said, gravely; "but I do not intend
going to the island just yet."
A radiant glance from Sibyl's beautiful eyes repaid him for the words.
But Captain Campbell was amazed.
"Not return? Why, what's in you head, now, Drummond? Where are you
going?" he asked, in surprise.
"Tired of Campbell's Isle already, eh? I knew how it would be. Well, I
suppose I'll have to submit to keep bachelor's hall alone for a day or two,
and then I shall return to Westport to see after my bonny bark. As the
Courtneys stay, likewise, I shall have to go alone; so au revoir."
And Captain Campbell, after exchanging a word with his hostess, left
the house to return to Campbell Lodge.
The few remaining guests by this time, had gone; and Willard
Drummond, also, took his departure. And then Sibyl took her night-lamp
and retired to her room to dream of her new-found happiness.
Laura Courtney sat alone on a sofa in a remote corner, her head on her
hand, her brows knit in painful thought. This fierce jealousy of her
husband's was growing insufferable; she felt she could not endure it much
longer. Every word, every look, every action was warped and distorted by
his jealous imagination into another proof of her guilt. And she painfully
felt that this absurd jealousy must soon be apparent to every one—an
almost unendurable thought; for, in spite of all her levity and apparent
indifference, the little girl-wife possessed too much pride and self-respect to
carelessly submit to such a bitter humiliation.
"I wish I knew what to do," she thought. "If I submit to all his whims
and caprices, it will only make matters worse. Nothing can remove this
deep-rooted passion, and the yoke he will lay on my neck will become
unbearable. Oh, I was mad, crazed, ever to marry him. Every one that knew
him told me how it would be—that he was tyrannical, jealous, exacting, and
passionate, but I only laughed at them, and deemed him perfection. How I
could ever have loved him, I'm sure I don't know, for he hasn't a single
lovable quality in him. However, it's too late to think of this now; I want to
forget the past altogether, if I can, and my folly with it. Good gracious!
what an awful look was on his face that time when I turned round. Perhaps,
after all, I had better not go to the island. The man's a monomaniac on this
point, and it won't do to drive him to desperation."
She bent her forehead on her hand, and remained for a few moments
lost in troubled thought.
"No, I shall not go; but I will not give him the triumph of knowing it.
He shall not think I am afraid of him, and that he has humbled me at last,"
she said, half aloud, as she raised her head proudly. "I will avoid Captain
Campbell, too, as much as possible, if I can do so without attracting
attention. Heigho! what it is to have a jealous husband! I wonder where
Edgar is? Perhaps he has gone to Westport, and left me here!"
"Prithee, why so sad?" said the jovial voice of Mrs. Brantwell, breaking
in at this moment on her reverie.
"You are looking as doleful as if some near relation had just been hung
for sheep-stealing. Come, I can't allow any one in my house to wear so
doleful a face. Don't indulge in the blues, my dear, or you need never expect
to wax fat and portly, as I am. Come, let me see you smile, now."
"Oh, Mrs. Brantwell! who could be sad in your sunshiny presence," said
Laura, smiling as brightly as even the good old lady could wish; "but,
really, I wasn't out of spirits—only dreadfully sleepy." And an immense
yawn confirmed the truth of her words.
"No wonder; it's four o'clock, so you had better retire. Jenny will show
you to your room."
"Mr. Courtney went to bed a quarter of an hour ago, my dear. And here's
Jenny, now, with your lamp. Good-night, love!" And kissing her, Mrs.
Brantwell consigned her to the charge of a neat mulatto girl, who appeared
with a light at the door.
Laura followed her up stairs to the door of her apartment. And here
Jenny handed her the light, dropped a courtesy, and disappeared.
Mrs. Courtney opened the door and entered. It was a neat, pretty little
room, with white curtains on the windows and white dimity hangings on the
bed; a wan-hued carpet on the floor, and a cozy arm-chair beside the
window. Mr. Courtney sat on the bed, still dressed in his evening costume—
his arm resting on the snowy pillows and his face bowed upon it. His dark
elf-locks fell heavily over the white pillows, as he lay as motionless as
though death had stifled forever his wildly Throbbing heart.
He looked up as his wife entered, and dashes back his long, dark hair.
Laura really felt for him—the wretched victim of his own turbulent
passions—but pity and sympathy she knew would be alike misunderstood
by him, if manifested; and even, perhaps, be adding fuel to the flames
already raging in his breast.
"Oh! you are here, are you?" she said, setting her lamp on the toilet-
stand, and throwing herself languidly in the arm-chair, "I thought you had
gone to Westport."
"And left you to flirt with your new lover. Ha! Ha! You thought so, did
you?"
What a goblin laugh it was. Laura shivered involuntarily, but she would
not abate one jot of her defiant sarcasm.
"Yes, I saw you playing the eavesdropper," she said, as she began taking
off her collar and bracelets; "it is just what I expected of you. You did it so
expertly, one would think you had been taking lessons all your life, in
listening at keyholes. Perhaps, you have learned from some hotel-waiter, or
lady's maid."
And Mrs. Courtney drew her little form up to its full height, and looked
with cool contempt, in his face.
"Madam! if you go to the island, I swear, by heaven, and all its hosts, it
will be the dearest night's work you have ever done."
"Hem! Why don't you swear by the other place; you are likely to know
more about it, some day, than you will ever know of heaven."
"Silence!" he shouted, in a fierce voice, "I repeat it; if you keep this
appointment with Captain Campbell, you shall repent it, in dust and ashes!"
Springing to her feet, she darted past him, reached the door, and said:
But, when the household assembled next morning, little Mrs. Courtney
looked as bright, and smiling, and breezy as ever, and met her pale, sour-
visaged husband with her customary, careless unconcern. He, too, was
calm; but, it was a delusive lull in the storm. The treacherous peace of the
sleeping volcano—the menacing quiet of a savage, seeking revenge—a
calm, more to be dreaded, than his former, fierce outburst of passion.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Sibyl must be his bride, and that soon—love, and pride, and ambition,
all demanded it. It would be such a triumph to carry off this beauty and
heiress—this brilliant star, who would so proudly and gloriously eclipse the
lesser lights of New York and Washington. And yet, though his darker angel
prompted this, he involuntarily shrank from the crime. What was to be done
with Christie? What would she do, when she heard of his marriage? Poor,
deceived little Christie? his heart smote him to think he had forgotten her
already.
He did not fear her much; it was not that which made him hesitate.
There was not a particle of revenge in her disposition. Meek, timid, and
yielding, he knew if he commanded her to be silent—saying his honor, his
happiness compelled him to act as he did—she would gently fold her hands
across her bosom, and die, if need be, and "make no sign." No, he need not
fear her, but he feared himself. There was a fierce struggle going on in his
breast. Once there had been before. Then it was between honor and passion;
now it was between pity and ambition. How could he tell his loving,
trusting child-bride that she would never see him more—that he had
deceived her and was to marry another? And on the other hand, after his
interview with Sibyl the previous night, it was absolutely impossible to
pursue any other course. Christie might suffer—die, if she would; but Sibyl
Campbell—this regal, beautiful heiress, this transcendently lovely Queen of
the Isle—must be his wife. His wife! Could she be that while Christie
lived? His brain was in a whirl as he paced up and down, still revolving the
question: "What next?—what next?"
Unable to answer it, he threw himself on his bed, only to live over again
the past few weeks in feverish dreams.
It was near noon when he awoke; and, with a head but slightly clearer
than it had been the preceding night, he set out for the parsonage.
"There is no other course for it," ran his thoughts, on the way, "but to
see Christie, and tell her all. But how to see her! Sibyl's jealousy is not
dead, but sleepeth; and if I visit the isle it may break out in new fury. I must
write a note to Christie, and send it to the island with some one—Lem or
Carl—and appoint a meeting, after night, unknown to every one. Yes, that is
what must be done. Poor Christie! poor Christie! Villain that I am to wrong
you so! but the hand of Destiny is upon me, driving me on. How is all this
to end? In woe for some of us, if the Egyptian's prediction come true. Well,
I am in the hands of Fate, and must accomplish her ends, come what may."
He found Sibyl alone in the drawing-room when he entered. Mrs.
Courtney and Mrs. Brantwell were conversing in the sitting-room, while
Mr. Courtney sat silently in the depths of an elbow-chair, and scowled at
them over the top of a book.
Sibyl's welcome was most cordial, and they were soon engaged in
animated conversation.
"I have left some things I need on the island, which I suppose I must
soon go after."
"If you mention it to Guy, he will send Lem over with them," said Sibyl,
with an involuntary coldness in her tone.
"I presume you do not intend visiting the lodge yourself?" he asked,
after a pause.
"No; the island has few attractions for me now. I really would not care
much if I never saw it again," she answered, briefly.
That evening when Willard returned to his hotel, he sat down and
indicted the following note, without date or superscription, to Christie:
Lest it should by any chance fall into other hands than those for whom it
was intended, he had omitted his name—knowing, besides, that it was not
necessary, since the person to whom he would deliver it would tell Christie
who had sent it.
Folding it up, he put it in his pocket, knowing that either Lem or Carl
would in all probability visit N—— during the day, and he could seize the
first opportunity of handing it to either unobserved.
The day dawned clear and beautiful, and as the family at the Brantwell
mansion assembled round the breakfast-table, little did they dream of the
appalling tragedy with which it was destined to close.
Sibyl and her lover sat in their favorite seat in the recess formed by the
deep bay-window, talking in low, lover-like tones.
"She is looking for her lover, and is watching impatiently for his
coming. This is the morning he promised to take her to the isle."
And his eyes assumed such a wild, maniac glare, that Mrs. Brantwell,
looking up suddenly from her work, uttered a stifled scream as she
exclaimed:
"Gracious me! Mr. Courtney, are you ill? You look like a ghost—worse
than any ghost, I declare. I knew your wound was not perfectly healed. You
had better retire, and lie down."
Laura, absorbed by her own thoughts, had not heard this brief
conversation. Yes, she was watching for Captain Campbell, with a nervous
restlessness, she could not control, but, with a far different object to that
which her husband supposed. She wanted to see him for a moment, before
he entered, to tell him she could not go with him, to the island, and, to beg
of him, not to allude to the subject in the presence of the others. If he did,
she knew her husband's jealousy would be apparent to all—a humiliation,
she wished to postpone, as long as possible.
Therefore, when at last she espied him coming, she flew down the
stairs, and, flushed, eager, palpitating, met him in the hall.
"Really, Mrs. Courtney," he said, smiling at her haste, "I hope I have not
kept you waiting."
"No, no," she answered, eagerly. "I wanted to tell you, Captain
Campbell, that I cannot go."
"Neither to-morrow nor ever. I cannot explain now, but, I wanted to tell
you this, before you met the others. Don't say anything about this, up stairs;
and, if my conduct appears strange, set it down to woman's fickleness, to
eccentricity, to anything you like."
She did not venture to look up, but he saw the burning flush that swept
over her face, and, for the first time, guessed the secret of her husband's
gloom.
He pressed her hand and passed up stairs; while Laura ran to hide her
burning cheeks, in the solitude of her own room.
The dark, fierce glance of hatred, which Mr. Courtney bestowed upon
the captain, as he entered, confirmed him in his opinion. Pitying Laura,
while he despised her husband, he determined to positively neglect her,
rather than give him further cause for jealousy.
"You have left Lem waiting on the beach," said Sibyl, some half-hour
after his entrance. "Is he to wait for you, there?"
"By Jove! I forgot all about him. I ought to have gone down, and told
him to return. I must go now," said Captain Campbell, starting up.
"No; ring the bell, and I will send Jenny down, to tell him," said Mrs.
Brantwell.
"Very well," said the young captain, resuming his seat. "Tell him I won't
need his services, and he may return home."
Making his adieu, Drummond hastened out and went down to the beach,
where Lem sat patiently sunning himself on a log, and waiting for his
master's return.
"Yes, sar," replied Lem, inwardly wondering what the "ole 'oman"
would say to this if she heard it.
"You are to give it to no one but herself—neither to Mrs. Tom nor Carl;
and you must not let any one see you giving it either. Why, where the deuce
can it be? I surely have not lost it?"
All this time he had been searching in his pockets, but the note was
nowhere to be found. He felt in his vest-pocket, where he had placed it, then
in his coat-pockets, then back again to his vest. All in vain. The note was
gone!
"I must have dropped it on the way, confound it!" he muttered, angrily.
"What if any one should find it? But, luckily, if they do, there is no clew by
which they will discover me to be the writer. Well, I must write another, that
is all."
He took a pencil from his pocket, tore a leaf out of his tablet, and wrote
a few lines. Then he consigned them to Lem, with the caution:
"Be sure you do not lose it, nor let any one see you deliver it. And this is
for your trouble—and silence. You understand?"
"All right, then; push off," said Drummond, as, with a mind intensely
relieved, he sprang up the bank, while his messenger set off for the island.
Scarcely had Drummond gone, when Mrs. Courtney entered, and took
the seat he had just vacated beside Sibyl. Noticing Captain Campbell only
by a grave bow—for the watchful eyes of her husband were upon her—she
entered into a low-toned conversation with Sibyl.
"Ah! she is growing careful; that is a bad sign. I must watch them more
closely, now that they have become guarded," thought Mr. Courtney, setting
his teeth hard.
And, while the captain remained, every word, every look, every tone
was watched and perverted by the jealous husband. Captain Campbell
treated him with cool contempt, and scarcely noticed him at all; but Laura
watched him constantly from under her long eye-lashes, anxious and
alarmed, as she noticed his ghastly face.
"Oh! I wish Captain Campbell would go—I wish he would go," thought
Laura, looking uneasily out of the window, "Heaven help Edgar! the man is
mad!"
Did some sweet instinct tell him her wish? He rose that instant to take
his leave.
"Christie?" cried Sibyl, in a voice that made them start, as her eyes ran
eagerly over the lines. They were as follows:
"DEAR MISS SIBYL.—I did not tell you all that night. I have thought
since I should have done so. When next you visit the island I shall reveal to
you my secret; for I feel you have a right to know. CHRISTIE."
Pale with many emotions, Sibyl leaned for a moment against the
window, without speaking.
"Well, Sibyl, what awful revelation does that tiny note contain, to alarm
you so?" he asked, in surprise.
"Guy," she said, impatiently, starting up. "I must visit the island to-day."
"I must—I must! My business there will not admit of delay. I must go."
"Why, what's wrong? They seemed all well when I left," said her
brother, still more surprised.
Feeling it would not do to excite a curiosity she could not satisfy, Sibyl
controlled her emotions, and said, more calmly:
"If you wait for an hour or two, Carl Henley will be here. I heard Mrs.
Tom saying he would visit N—— to-night, for things she wanted. If you
must go, he will take you when he returns."
"Very well; I suppose that must do," said Sibyl, controlling her burning
impatience by a great effort, as she hastily left the room.
And Captain Campbell, having made his adieus, also departed, followed
by Mrs. Brantwell. Laura kept her seat by the window, while her husband
still scowled gloomily from under his midnight brow.
"Look pleasant, can't you? I declare, the very sight of you is enough to
make one's blood run cold."
"Yes, I would then—there! You don't see him wearing such a diabolical,
savage, cut-throat look as you do. I wish to mercy you'd take him for a
model, and not make such a fright of yourself, I'm positively ashamed to
present you as my husband, of late—you have got to be such a hideous-
looking creature!"
Mrs. Courtney hastened from the room, and Mr. Courtney was left alone
with his evil passions.
As she rose from her seat, his eye fell on something like a note under
her chair. Like a tiger pouncing on his prey, he sprang upon it, seized it,
opened it, read it, and crushed it convulsively in his hand.
"This is hers; she has dropped it. He gave it to her!" said the unhappy
man his face growing absolutely appalling in its ghastly pallor. "Oh, I see it
all—I see it all! They dare not meet in day-time, and she will meet him this
night on the isle. Good Heaven! I shall go mad! Dishonored, disgraced
forever! and by the woman I have loved so madly. And she laughed,
mocked, and taunted me to my face, with this in her possession!"
He ground his teeth, to keep back the terrific groans that were making
their way up through his tortured heart.
"And is this the woman I have loved—this vilest of her sex, who dare
laugh with such a crime on her soul? I know now—oh! I know now, why
she did not go to the island with him, to-day. She thought to blind me, and
make me think she was not going at all, that I might be lulled into security.
Curses light on them both!" came through his clenched teeth.
Little dreaming of the thoughts that were passing through his mind,
Laura—ever the creature of impulse—forgetting her momentary anger,
went over, and, laying her hand on his arm, said:
"Come, Mr. Courtney, throw off this gloom, and be a little like you used
to be. There is no occasion for all this anger, for, I am not going to the
island, at all. You see, I have even given up my own, sweet will, to please
you; so, I think I deserve something in return, for being so good. Don't I?"
He turned, and she almost shrieked aloud, at the awful face she beheld.
"Edgar! Oh, Edgar! Great Heaven! do not look so wild. I never meant to
make you so angry. I will not go—indeed, I will not go. Only speak to me,
and do not wear that dreadful look!"
With an awful malediction, he hurled her from him, and sent her reeling
across the room.
She struck against the sharp edge of the table, and fell to the ground, her
face covered with blood.
But he heeded her not. Seizing his hat and coat, he rushed from the
house, as if driven by ten thousand furies. And his face, upturned to the
light, was the face of a demon.
Three hours later, a boat, containing two persons, put off for Campbell's
Isle. One, was a rough fisher-boy, half simpleton, half idiot; the other, a tall,
dark man, who sat in the stern, his hat drawn far down over his brow, the
collar of his coat turned up, leaving nothing to be seen, but a pair of wild,
black, maniac eyes, that glared like live coals, with the fire of madness.
CHAPTER XIX.
THAT DAY.
"The day is lowering, stilly black,
Sleeps the grim wave."
"Really, Sibyl, my love, you are getting to be a most singular girl. Two
or three days ago you were all in the dismals; then, after the party, you got
as amiable and bright as a June morning; and scarcely had you promised to
stay with me here for an indefinite length of time, and I was congratulating
myself on having secured you here, when Guy brings you a tiny note from
this little blue-eyed island-girl, Christie, and lo! you are off on the wing
again, and I am left to go moping about like a poor old hen-turkey with the
distemper."
"But my dear Mrs. Brantwell," said Sibyl, "you have Mrs. Courtney,
who is twice as agreeable and lively a companion as I am. It's impossible
for you to go moping around, as you say, when she is here."
"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Brantwell, "that's all very fine, without being in the
least consoling. I want you. Mrs. Courtney's very lively and all that, I know;
but I invited her here as much to keep you in spirits as anything else, and
now you fly off and leave us for my pains."
"Your happiness? Now, Sibyl Campbell, I would just like to know what
this island-girl has to do with your happiness?" said Mrs. Brantwell, folding
her fat hands, and looking in Sibyl's face.
"More than you would ever think, perhaps—more than I once ever
dreamed myself she would have," said Sibyl, while a cloud fell over her
brow. "But enough of this. I cannot explain further at present. The amount
of it is, I must go to-night!"
"Sibyl, do you know what I think?" said Mrs. Brantwell, with such
abrupt suddenness that the young girl started.
"And you will not be angry with your old friend, who talks for your
good?"
"Of course not. What in the world is this preface about?"
And Sibyl's large eyes were fixed surprised on the fair, florid face of the
matron.
"Well, then, Sibyl, it's my opinion you're jealous of some one," said the
old lady, with the air of one who has made a discovery.
"I had too high an opinion of you, Sibyl," went on the old lady, very
gravely, "to think you could stoop to be jealous of any one, much less an
insignificant little girl like this Christie. Don't be angry, my love; I am
talking for your good. And indeed you have not the slightest cause to fear a
rival; for, go where you will, you cannot find one more peerlessly beautiful
than yourself. I don't say this to make you vain—though I know you, my
queenly darling, could never be vain—but it is to inspire you with
confidence. Come, my dear child, shake off this feeling that is unworthy of
you. Mr. Drummond, I feel assured, has never for an instant wavered in his
fidelity to you."
"Who said I was jealous?" said Sibyl, passionately. "I am not. He dare
not be false to me. Let him try it at his peril. He knows I am not one to be
trifled with."
"Oh, you do not know. Do I not love truly? Have I not staked life, and
heart, and happiness on him, and yet——"
"You doubt."
"No, no—not now. I did doubt, but that time has gone," said Sibyl, with
a sort of incoherence.
"Then, wherefore this visit to the isle, Sibyl?" said Mrs. Brantwell,
fixing her eyes searchingly on her face.
"It sounded like some one falling," said Sibyl, listening breathlessly. "I
will go down and see."
She flew down the long staircase, followed by Mrs. Brantwell; and, on
entering the room, there they found Mrs. Courtney lying senseless on the
floor, her face deluged with blood.
"Great Heavens! what has happened!" said Sibyl, turning faint and sick
at the sight.
"Oh, I know," said Mrs. Brantwell, wildly, as she hurried forward and
raised the slender, prostrate form. "Oh, that demon of jealousy! How many
souls is it destined to torture? Sibyl, please ring the bell."
"But what does this mean? I do not understand," said Sibyl, as she
obeyed.
"Why, this poor child's husband is crazy with jealousy—I have observed
it, though she thought I did not."
"Heaven be merciful! he cannot have struck her?" said Sibyl, white with
horror.
The alarmed girl flew to obey; and after dispatching the boy for the
doctor, hurried back and aided Mrs. Brantwell in conveying the slight form
of Mrs. Courtney to her room.
Then, with some tepid water, she washed off the blood and disclosed a
deep gash right above the eye, which continued bleeding so profusely as to
awaken fears for her life.
"Oh, I fear she will bleed to death! Would that the doctor were here!"
said Mrs. Brantwell, wringing her hands in deepest distress.
"And here he is," said Sibyl, as at that moment the doctor hastily
entered.
After examining the wound the doctor pronounced it dangerous, but not
fatal, and soon succeeded in stopping the bleeding. And then the dark eyes
of Laura opened wildly, and wandered with a vague, frightened look
around.
"My poor child, what has happened?" said Mrs. Brantwell, bending over
her, and parting the bright disordered hair on her pale brow.
"Oh, no!—no, no!" she cried, wildly. "I fell, and struck against
something. Oh, my head! I am going crazy, I think."
"Hush, love! You must not excite yourself. Lie still, and do not talk."
"I have been very wicked—very rash," she said, "but, I did not mean it.
Oh, I never meant it—I never—never meant it!" she moaned, pressing her
hands over her heart.
"My dearest child, I know it. But it will hurt you to talk so much."
"Yes, yes; I always did talk thoughtlessly, and it has driven him mad.
Oh! I loved him once, and I have driven him mad, now," she cried,
wringing her pale fingers.
"Give her this; it will compose her," said that gentleman, who could not
tell what to make of all this.
"Drink this, love; it will soothe you," said that good lady, raising the
poor, wounded head of the young wife, and holding the cup to her lips.
With the passive obedience of a child, she complied, and fell back on
her pillow. And, gradually, the wild, frenzied expression left her face, and
she fell into a deep slumber.
"And now, she must be kept very quiet," said the doctor, as he took his
hat and gloves. "There is not the slightest danger, if she is not allowed to
excite herself, and is carefully nursed, which I know she will be, with Mrs.
Brantwell. Repeat the medicine, when she wakes, and I will call again, to-
morrow."
And the doctor bowed himself out, while Mrs. Brantwell sat down
beside the poor, pale sleeper, fanning her gently, and watching her while she
slept.
Sibyl, seeing her presence was not necessary, went down to the parlor,
where she found Willard Drummond awaiting her. She started in alarm, for
his countenance was grave and deeply troubled.
"Why, Willard, what has happened?". she asked, hurriedly, quick to take
the alarm, where he was concerned.
She turned deadly pale, and her large, dark eyes were fixed on his face,
in agonized inquiry.
The news came so suddenly, that, for a moment she seemed stunned.
"Soon, I hope; but, I cannot, as yet, tell. Farewell, my own, dearest love;
believe me, I will return to you as soon as may be."
"And you will write?" she said, burying her face in his shoulder.
He pressed her to his heart, and then quitted the house, and, mounting
his horse, rode rapidly away.
And he rode on, never thinking whether Christie was destined to live to
see that eventful tomorrow, dawn.
When he was gone, Sibyl sat for a few moments, with a feeling of utter
desolation. She knew he was not to be gone long; but, it was their first
parting, save the few days she was absent in New York, and there was a
dreary sense of loneliness—a passionate longing to be with him, to never
leave him—filling her heart. With her hands lying upon the table, and her
head dropped upon them, she remained wholly unconscious of the flight of
time, until the entrance of Mrs. Brantwell, aroused her.
She lifted her head and tried to listen, as the good old lady spoke of
Laura.
"She has had a quiet sleep, and now appears much better. But how pale
you are, Sibyl! Are you going to be ill, too?"
"Yes, I don't wonder at it," said Mrs. Brantwell, thinking the shock she
alluded to, was the sudden sight of Laura. "I came to look for a sponge, and
must go back to Mrs. Courtney, now."
She left the room, and Sibyl went to the window, and looked out.
The afternoon was waning, the sun was slowly sinking toward the west,
and, Sibyl saw, with some concern, that a dark, dense cloud was rising.
"There is a storm coming, and perhaps there may be no boat from the
island, after all," she said, anxiously. "How can I wait until to-morrow?"
But, even while she spoke, she espied the well-known form of Carl
Henley, approaching the house.
Sibyl sprang to the bell, and rang a peal, that presently brought Jenny.
"Jenny, run down to the door, and tell the boy you will see passing to
come up here immediately," she said, excitedly.
"Right off—soon's ever I get some tea, and sugar, and coffee, and
starch, and things for Aunt Tom."
"I will be ready in five minutes, and wait for you on the beach. That will
do," said Sibyl, rising, to close the interview.
Carl hurried out to fulfill his commissions for Mrs. Tom, and Sibyl went
to her room to dress, and take leave of Mrs. Brantwell.
"And I shall certainly try not to disappoint you," said Sibyl, as she
quitted the room.
She took her way to the beach, where she was soon joined by Carl, who,
muttering an inarticulate something about having a "stunner of a storm
pretty soon," pushed off and took the oars, and under his practiced hands
the boat was soon flying like a bird through the sparkling waves.