Cruel as the grave
to do. I see that Mrs. Berners' eyes are still wide open--"
"I slept so long in the afternoon," put in Sybil.
"But, at all events, I am forced to leave you before light. It is not
quite safe now to be seen in open daylight, travelling this road so
often. To-night I will come again, and bring you further news, and
perhaps more comfort. Come, Joe."
Joe, who had fallen asleep over the fire, now slowly woke up and lifted
himself from the floor.
The Captain shook hands with his friends, and followed by Joe, left the
Chapel.
Sybil then went and spread out the mattress, and put the pillows and
covering upon it, and persuaded Lyon to lie down and try to sleep, as he
had not slept for two nights past. She said that she herself could not
sleep, but that she would sit close by him, so as to be ready to arouse
him, on the slightest indication of danger.
Very reluctantly he yielded to her pleadings, and stretched himself upon
the mattress. She went and gathered the smouldering coals and brands
together, so that the fire might not go entirely out, and then she
returned and sat down beside her husband.
He took her hand in his, and clasping it protectingly, he closed his
eyes and fell asleep.
She sat watching the little fire, and brooding almost to insanity over
the strange revolution that a few hours had made in her life, driving
her so suddenly from her own hereditary manor-house, her home of wealth
and honor and safety, out into the perilous wilderness, a fugitive from
the law.
Yet not once did Sybil's imagination take in the extreme horror of her
position. She thought that she had been brought away by her husband to
be saved from the affront of an arrest, and the humiliation of a few
days imprisonment. That anything worse than this could happen to her,
she never even dreamed. But even this to the pure, proud Sybil would
have been almost insupportable mortification and misery. To escape all
this she was almost willing to incur the charge of having fled from
justice, and to endure the hardships of a fugitive's life.
And oh! through all there was one consolation so great, that it was
enough to compensate for all the wretchedness of her position. She was
assured of her husband's love, beyond all possibility of future doubt.
He was by her side, never to leave her more!
This was enough! She closed her hand around the beloved hand that held
hers, and felt a strange peace and joy, even in the midst of her exile
and danger.
Perhaps in this stillness she slumbered a while, for when she lifted her
head, the chapel, that had been dark before, but for the gleaming of the
little fire, was now dimly filled with the gray light of dawn.
She saw the shapes of the pointed windows against the background of
heavy shadows and pale lights, and she knew that day was coming. She did
not stir from the spot, lest she should wake her husband, whose hand
held hers. All was still in the chapel, so still that even the faint
sweet sounds of wakening nature could be heard--the stirring of the
partridge in her cover, the creeping of the squirrel from her hole, the
murmur of the little brook, the rustle of the leaves, and, farther off,
the deep thunder of the cascade, and the detonating echoes of the
mountains.
Sybil sat motionless, and almost breathless, lest she should disturb her
beloved sleeper. But the next moment she could scarcely forbear
screaming aloud; for there passed along the wall before her a figure
that, even in the dim light, she recognized as the strange visitant of
the preceding day. It came from the direction of the altar, and glided
past each of the four windows and vanished through the door. When Sybil
had repressed her first impulse to scream, self-control was easy, so she
sat quietly holding her husband's hand, though much amazed by what she
had again seen.
Day broadened, and soon the rays of the rising sun, striking through the
east windows, and lighting on the face of the sleeper, awoke him.
He looked into the face of his wife, and then along the walls of the
chapel, with a bewildered expression of countenance. This had been his
first sleep for two nights, and it had been so deep that he had utterly
forgotten the terrible drama of the two last preceding days, and could
not at once remember what had happened, or where he was. But as he again
turned and looked into Sybil's face, full memory of all flashed back
upon him. But he did not allude to the past; he merely said to Sybil:
"You have not slept, love."
"I have not wished to do so," she answered.
"This is a very primitive sort of life we are living, love," he said,
with a smile, as he arose from the mattress.
"But it is not at all an unhappy one," answered Sybil; "for, oh, since
you are with me, I do not care much about anything else. Destiny may do
what she pleases, so that she does not part us. I can bear exile,
hunger, cold, fatigue, pain--anything but parting, Lyon!"
"Do not fear that, love; we will never part for a single day, if I can
help it."
"Then let anything else come. I can bear it cheerfully," smiled Sybil.
While they talked they were working also. Sybil was folding up the
bedclothes, and Lyon was looking about for a bucket, to fetch water from
the fountain. He soon found one, and went upon his errand.
Sybil followed him with two towels. They washed their hands and faces
in the stream, and dried them on the towels. And then they went higher
up the glen, and caught a bucketful of delightful water from the crystal
spring that issued from the rocks.
They returned to the chapel, and together they made the fire and
prepared the breakfast.
It was not until they were seated at their primitively arranged
breakfast, which was laid upon the flagstones of the chapel floor--it
was not, in fact, until they had nearly finished their simple meal, that
Sybil told Lyon of the apparition she had seen in the early dawn, to
come up as if from the floor to the right of the altar, and glide along
the east wall of the chapel, past the four gothic windows, and disappear
through the door.
"It was a morning dream, dear Sybil; nothing more," said Lyon,
sententiously; for in the broad daylight he believed in nothing
supernatural, even upon the evidence of his own senses.
"If that were a morning dream, then the sight that we saw together
yesterday was but a dream, and you are but a dream, and life itself is
but a dream," replied Sybil, earnestly.
"Well, at all events, what we have both, either separately or together,
seen and experienced, must be something perfectly natural and
commonplace, although we may not either of us be able to understand or
explain it. My private opinion and worse misgiving is, that there is
some woman concealed about the place. If ever I find myself in arm's
length of that little gipsy, I shall intercept her, even at the risk of
receiving such a spiritual-shock as that which struck Mrs. Alicia
Dubarry to the ground," said Lyon, facetiously; for he might well make a
jest of this lighter affair of the chapel mystery to veil the deep
anxiety he felt in the heavy matter of their affliction.
The husband and wife passed this second day of hiding tediously enough.
She made the little housekeeping corner of the chapel tidy, by folding
up and putting aside all their bedclothes and garments, and by washing
and arranging their few cooking utensils. He brought in wood and brush,
which he broke up and piled in another corner, to have it near at hand
to replenish the fire. Also, he brought water from the spring; and then
with no other instrument than his pocket-knife, he made a trap and set
it to catch rabbits.
Then they rambled together through the wilderness around the chapel, and
the better they grew acquainted with the wild neighborhood, the surer
they felt of their safety in its profound solitude.
Their only anxiety connected with their security in this place, was upon
the subject of the mysterious visitant. It was incomprehensible by any
known law of nature.
They talked of this mystery. They reverted to all the so-called
"authenticated ghost stories" that they had ever read or heard, and that
they had hitherto set down to be either impostures or delusions.
But now here was a fact in their own experience that utterly confounded
their judgment, and the end of their discussion on the subject left them
just where they had been at its commencement. They resolved, however, to
divulge the whole matter to Captain Pendleton, to whom they had not yet
even hinted it, and to ask his counsel; and they looked forward with
impatience to the evening visit of this devoted friend.
As it was growing cold towards the setting of the sun they turned their
steps again towards the chapel. It was quite dark when they reached it.
Their fire had nearly gone out, but he replenished it, and she began to
prepare the evening meal.
While she was still engaged in this work, the sound of approaching
footsteps warned them that Captain Pendleton was near. Lyon Berners went
out to meet him.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A GHASTLY PROCESSION.
If charnel-houses and our graves must send
Those that we bury back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.--SHAKESPEARE.
"Well?" exclaimed Mr. Berners, eagerly.
"Well, the flight is now discovered beyond all doubt. Search-warrants
have been issued. My house is to be searched among the rest," replied
Captain Pendleton.
"What else?"
"Arrangements are being made for the funeral of the dead woman. They
will bury her the day after to-morrow in the church-yard at Blackville."
"And what else?"
"Nothing, but that I would not permit Joe to accompany me to-night. More
precaution is now necessary to insure your safety."
"And that is all?"
"Yes."
"Then come in and see Sybil."
They went in together, where Mrs. Berners greeted Captain Pendleton with
her usual courtesy, and then immediately repeated her anxious questions.
"Has the murderer been discovered? May we go home?"
"Not yet, dear Madam!" answered Pendleton to both questions, as he sat
down by the fire.
"I have something to tell you, Pendleton, and to ask your advice about,"
began Lyon Berners. And he related the mysterious vision that had thrice
crossed their path.
"Oh! it is a form of flesh and blood! We don't believe in apparitions at
this age of the world! But this indeed must be looked to! If you have
seen her here three times, of course she has seen you," said Captain
Pendleton in much anxiety.
"Most certainly she knows of our presence here, if she knows nothing
else about us," replied Mr. Berners.
"Then it is useless to attempt to conceal yourselves from her. She must
be laid hold of, talked with, and won or bribed to keep our secret--to
help us if possible. We must find out whether she will serve our
purpose. If she will, it will be all quite right, and you may remain
here until it is safe to depart; but if she will not, it will be all
entirely wrong, and you must leave this place at all hazards," concluded
Captain Pendleton.
"Yes, it is very well for you to talk of intercepting her, but you had
just as well try to intercept a shadow as it glides past you," put in
Sybil, with a wise nod.
"The attempt shall be made, at all events," determined Mr. Berners.
Sybil was in the act of putting the supper--not on the table, for table
there was none in the chapel--but on the cloth spread upon the
flagstones, when Captain Pendleton, to give a lighter turn to their
talk, said:
"You may put a plate for me also, Mrs. Berners! I have not yet supped,
and I'm glad I have got here in time to join you."
"I am glad too! We are getting quite comfortably to housekeeping here,