Cruel as the grave
"No, dear wife; it would scarcely yet be prudent to do so. But we can go
to Europe, and travel over the Continent, and see the wonders of the
Old World, leaving our friend here with a power of attorney to manage
our estate and collect our revenues, and remit us money as we require
it. We can stay abroad and enjoy ourselves until such time as justice
shall be done, and we can return to our home, not only with safety, but
in triumph," replied Lyon Berners, cheerfully.
Sybil too caught the infection of his cheerful manner, whether that were
real or assumed, and she too brightened up.
The friends then discussed the details of the projected flight.
"In the first place," began Captain Pendleton, "you must both be so well
disguised as to seem the opposite of yourself in rank, age, and personal
appearance. You, Lyon, must shave off your auburn beard, and cut close
your auburn hair, and you must put on a gray wig and a gray beard--those
worn by your old Peter, in his character of Polonius at your mask ball,
will, with a little trimming, serve your purpose. Then you must wear a
pair of spectacles and a broad-brimmed hat and an old man's loose
fitting, shabby travelling suit. I can procure both the spectacles and
the clothes from the wardrobe of my deceased father. Mrs. Berners, too,
should cut her hair short, and wear a red wig and a plain dress. The wig
you wore as Harold the Saxon will suit very well, with a little
arrangement. Then I can procure the dress from my sister. You must
travel as a poor old farmer, and your wife must go as your red-headed
illiterate daughter. You are both excellent actors, and can sustain your
parts very well."
"Dear me!" said Sybil, half crying, half smiling; "I have been warned
that it is never well to begin any enterprise of which one does not know
the end. And I'm sure when I undertook to give a mask ball and take a
character in it, I had not the slightest idea that the masquerade would
last longer than a night, or that I should have to continue to act a
character."
"Never mind, darling; it is but for a season. Go on, Pendleton. You seem
to have settled everything in your own mind for us. Let us hear the rest
of your plan," said Mr. Berners.
"It is this," continued the Captain. "I will bring these disguises to
you to-morrow night. I will also have a covered cart, loaded with
turnips, potatoes, apples, and so forth; I will have this cart driven by
your faithful Joe down to the Blackville ferry-boat, in which of course
he can cross the river with his load of produce unsuspected and
unquestioned."
"Or even if some inquisitive gossip should ask him where he might be
going, Joe would be ready with his safe answer. He can beat us in
baffling inquiry," put in Sybil.
"Like all his race," laughed Lyon.
"The chance you have mentioned is provided for. Joe is instructed to
answer any haphazard questioner, that he is bringing the load to me,
which will be the truth."
"But proceed, dear Pendleton. Develop your whole plan," urged Mr.
Berners.
"Well, then, once safe on this side of the river, Joe will drive the
cart to some convenient spot, to which I myself will guide you."
"Ah, how much trouble you take for us, Pendleton!" sighed Lyon.
"Not at all. As far as I am concerned, it is a piquant adventure. Try to
look at it in that light. Well, to our subject. When you reach the cart
you can put your wife inside, and then mount the driver's seat, and
start upon your journey like a plain old farmer going to market to sell
his produce. As you will have but the one pair of horses for the whole
journey, you will see the necessity of making very short stages, in
order to enable them to complete it."
"Certainly."
"And now listen! Because you must make these short stages and frequent
stoppages, and because you must avoid the most travelled roads, it will
be necessary for you to take a map of the State, and follow the most
direct route to Norfolk."
"Which is not the turnpike road used by the mail stagecoaches, for that
diverges frequently five or ten miles to the right or left of the line,
to take in the populous villages," put in Lyon Berners.
"Yes; I see you comprehended me! Well, I should farther advise you, when
you reach Norfolk, to put up at some obscure inn near the wharves, and
to embark in the very first ship that sails for Europe, even if it
should set sail within an hour after your arrival."
"You may rest assured that we shall not loiter in Norfolk," said Mr.
Berners.
"As for the draught horses and cart, if you have time, you can sell
them. If not, you can leave them at the livery stable, and on the day of
sailing post me a letter containing an order to receive them."
"You think of everything, dear Pendleton."
"I can't think of anything else just now," replied Captain Pendleton.
"Well, then, we will have some supper," said Sybil rising to prepare it.
"I declare, I never in all my life supped out so frequently as I have
done since you two have been housekeeping in this old Haunted Chapel!
And by the way, talking of that, have you seen any more apparitions? any
more spectral gipsy girls? or shrouded forms? or shadowy coffins? or
open vaults? eh, Mrs. Berners?" laughingly inquired Captain Pendleton.
"No, nothing unusual has disturbed us, either last night or to-day. But
now, talking of open vaults, have you brought the crowbar to force the
door, sir?" said Sybil, turning sharply to the Captain.
"Yes, dear Mrs. Berners; since I promised to bring it, I felt bound to
do so; though I hope you will not really have it put to use."
"Just as soon as supper is over, I will have that door forced open. I
will see what that mysterious vault holds," said Sybil, firmly.
And she almost kept her word.
As soon as they had finished the evening meal, she arose and called upon
the gentlemen to go with her and force the door of the vault.
And they went and inserted the crowbar between the grating and the
stonework, and wrenched with all their united strength; but their
efforts availed nothing, even to move the door.
They gave over their exertions to recover their breath, and when they
had got it they began again with renewed vigor; but with no better
success. Again they stopped to breathe, and again they re-commenced the
task with all their might; but after working as hard as they could for
fifteen minutes longer, they again ceased from sheer exhaustion, leaving
the door as fast as they had found it.
"It is of no use to try longer, Sybil. We cannot force it," said Mr.
Berners.
"I see that you cannot. The vault keeps its secrets well," she answered,
solemnly.
And then they returned to their seats near the fire, and sat and talked
over the projected journey until it was time for Captain Pendleton to
go.
When the husband and wife were left alone, they felt themselves tired
enough to go to rest, with a prospect of getting a good night's sleep.
"This is the last night that we shall spend in this place, dear Sybil,"
said Lyon Berners, as he put the smouldering brands together to keep the
fire up till morning.
Sybil replied with a deep yawn.
And in a few minutes they laid down to rest, and in a very few more they
fell asleep.
How long they had slept Sybil had no means of knowing, when she was
awakened by an impression that some cold damp creature had laid down on
the front of the mattress close beside her. She opened her eyes and
strained them around in a vague dread, but the inside of the chapel was
dark as pitch. The fire had gone entirely out; she could not even see
the outlines of the Gothic windows; all was black as Tartarus. But
still--oh, horror!--she felt the cold damp form pressing close beside
her.
A speechless, breathless awe possessed her. She could not scream, but
she cautiously put out her hand to make sure whether she was dreaming,
when--horror upon horror!--it touched a clammy face!
Still she did not cry out, for some potent spell seemed to bind her
which at once tied her tongue and moved her hand; for that hand passed
down over the slender form and straight limbs, and then up again, until
it reached the still bosom, when--climax of horror!--it was caught and
clasped in the clay-cold hand of the--WHAT?
CHAPTER XXIX.
GHOSTLY AND MYSTERIOUS
On horror's head Horrors accumulate.--Thompson.
An icy sweat of terror bathed Sybil's form. She tried to cry out, and
did utter a low half-stifled scream. But the cold fingers of the ghastly
creature closed tightly upon hers, and a thin, hollow voice murmured:
"Hush; don't you make a noise; don't be frightened. I can't hurt you.
I'm chilled almost to death. And you were so warm. I crept to your side
to tell you something. You are in hiding here, and so--_Ah-h-h_!"
The reed-like murmur ended in a terrific shriek. There was a silent
movement, and Sybil felt the clammy form snatched up from her side and
borne away in the darkness.
And then the spell that had bound her faculties was unloosed, and she
uttered scream after scream as she shook and awakened her husband.
"In the name of Heaven, Sybil, what now?" he exclaimed, as he started up
into a sitting posture.
"Oh, Lyon! for the love of mercy, get up! Get a light! I shall go mad in
this horrible place!" she cried in a perfect frenzy of terror.
"Calm yourself, Sybil. There is nothing to fear. I am here with you. I
will strike a light," answered Lyon Berners quietly, as he got up and
groped about in the darkness for the tinder-box.
Striking a light in those days was not the quick and easy matter that it
is now. When the tinder-box was at length found, the flint and steel had
to be struck together until a spark was elicited to set fire to the
tinder. So it was full five minutes from the time Lyon was awakened, to
the moment that he lit the candle and looked upon the pale and
horror-stricken face of his wife.
"Now then, Sybil, what is it?" he inquired.
"Oh, what is it! This place is full of devils!" she cried, shaking as
with an ague fit.
"My dear wife!" he said, in surprise and concern to see her shudder so
fearfully, to hear her speak so wildly.
"It _is_, I tell you, full of devils, Lyon!" she repeated with
chattering teeth.
There chanced to be a little wine in their stores. He went and poured
some into a glass and brought it to her, made her drink it.
"Now then, tell me what has thrown you into this state? What has
happened to terrify you so much? another dream, vision, apparition?
what?" he inquired, as he took from her hand the empty glass.
"Oh, no, no, no! no dream, no vision, nothing of that sort. It was too
dark to see anything, you know; but oh! it was something so ghastly and
horrible that I shall never, never get over it!" she exclaimed, while
shudder after shudder shook her frame.
"Tell me," he said soothingly.
"Oh, it was a damp girl!" she cried.
"A damp girl!" he echoed in amazement and alarm; for he almost feared
his dear wife was going crazy.
"Oh yes, a damp girl! A clay-cold, clammy, corpse-like form of a girl!"
"Where? when? what about her?"
"Oh, I woke up and felt her lying by my side! so close that she chilled
and oppressed me! I put out my hand, and she caught it in her deathly
fingers! I screamed, but she spoke to me! She was about to tell me
something, when she was suddenly snatched up and torn away!"
"My dear Sybil, this was nightmare again!"
"Oh, no, no, no! I have had nightmare, and know what it is! It is not
like this! All this was real, as real as you and I! This place is full
of devils!"
"My darling wife, have you lost your senses?"
"Oh, no; but I shall lose them if I stay in this demon-haunted place a
day longer!"