Cruel as the grave
and preserved quinces, and fried potatoes, and corn pone, and hot rolls,
and buckwheat cakes, and cold bread and butter, and some coffee, and
buttermilk and sweet milk. And that's all, I believe; for, you see, I
an't well, and I haven't come to my stomach yet; but if I can think of
anything else, I will let you know.
"Is your father going to eat his breakfast with you?"
"Who? pappy? No; he's gone to market, and will get his victuals at the
eating stall. Wouldn't it be good fun to keep a eating stall in a
market?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, never mind whether you do, or not. Hurry up with my victuals."
"Yes; but I'm afraid we haven't got all the things you want; but I will
bring you up what we have," said the girl, who had opened her eyes
widely at the bill of fare ordered by her sickly guest.
"Well, go do it then, and don't stop to talk," said Sybil, shortly.
Rachel went out, and in due time returned with a waiter containing
Sybil's breakfast.
"Why, there an't half--no, not a quarter of the things I told you to
fetch me," said Sybil, turning up her nose at the waiter that Rachel
placed upon the table.
"I have brought you some of everything that we have cooked. I should be
glad if I could bring you all you wish," replied Rachel.
"Then I s'pose I must be half-starved in this poor place. And me so
weakly, too! I'll tell pappy as soon as ever he comes. I want to go
home--I do. We've got as much as ever we can eat at home," grumbled
Sybil, doing her best to act her part, and perhaps overdoing it.
But Rachel was not suspicious. She again apologized for not being able
to fill her guest's order in its utmost extent, and she remained in the
room and waited on Sybil until the breakfast was finished, and then she
took away the service, wondering how little her guest had eaten, after
having ordered such a vast amount of food.
Again Rachel came back to the room, and made everything tidy in each
chamber, and then finally left her guest alone.
Sybil walked about and took up and put down every small object that lay
about her humble apartments, and then looked out of each window upon the
narrow crowded and noisy street below; and finally, she took the volume
of "Celebrated Criminal Trials" that had a terrible attraction for her,
in her present circumstances, and she sat down and read until her
husband's return.
Lyon Berners drove his empty wagon into the stable yard, at noon. He had
sold out all his produce, and pretended to be in great glee at his
success. The landlord congratulated him, and some chance loungers in the
bar-room suggested that, under such circumstances, it would be the right
thing for him to treat the company. Lyon thought so too; and in his
character of farmer, he ordered pipes and glasses all around. And then
he made his escape, and went up stairs to see Sybil.
"Still moping over that depressing book. Put it away, Sybil, and get on
your bonnet, and throw a thick veil over it, and come out with me for a
walk; we have to buy something for our voyage, you know," said Lyon,
cheerfully.
Sybil with a sigh given to her fears, did as he requested her to do; and
the two went down stairs together.
"Going out for a walk, I reckon, farmer?" inquired the landlord, who
stood at the bar-room door with a pipe in his mouth.
"Aye, aye. You know these girls--when they find out that their pappies
have made a little bit of money, there is no peace till it's spent. My
girl is taking me out shopping, to buy gimcracks and things! I'll be
glad when I get her home again," grumbled Lyon.
"Well, well, she's your onliest one, and you mustn't be hard on her. My
Rachel gets all she wants, and deserves it too. Dinner at two o'clock,
sharp, farmer."
"Aye, aye! I know. Men o' my age never forget their dinners," said Lyon,
as he drew Sybil's arm within his own and led her out into the streets.
They went only into the back streets, and the poor shops, and they
bought only what was strictly necessary for their voyage; and having
concluded their purchases, they returned to the inn in time for dinner.
Sybil was very much depressed. She could not rally from the effect the
reading of that book had had upon her mind. She frequently repeated her
fervent aspiration:
"Oh! that the ship would sail to-day!"
Lyon encouraged her as much as he possibly could, but he had his own
private subject of anxiety. He had not of course told any one of his
intention to go abroad. Every one believed that, having sold out his
load, he would return home; but he was obliged to stay in the city
until the sailing of the ship, and he wanted a fair excuse to do so.
That evening the weather changed, and the sky clouded over, and the next
morning it rained, and it continued to rain for three days.
"This here will make them there roads so bad that we shan't be able to
travel for a week, even if it does clear up soon," grumbled and growled
the self-styled farmer, feeling glad all the while of an excuse to stay
until the ship should sail.
"No, that you won't," echoed his friend the landlord, glad to retain a
guest with whom he was pleased.
On the third day of the rain, the sky showing signs of clearing, Lyon
Berners went over to Portsmouth to hear at what precise time the
Enterprise would sail for Liverpool. When he returned he had good news
for Sybil.
"The Ship will sail on Saturday! That is the day after to-morrow, dear
Sybil. And we may go on board to-morrow night."
"Oh! I am so glad!" exclaimed Sybil, clapping her hands for joy. And she
began to pack up immediately.
"Moreover, I have sold my wagon and horses to a party at Portsmouth. And
so we can put our luggage into it and drive off as if we were going
home; but we can go down to the river instead, and take it across in the
ferry-boat. Then I can have our effects put upon shipboard, and then
deliver the team to its purchaser and receive the price," added Lyon.
"Oh, but I am so delighted with the bare fact of our getting away so
soon, that all things else seem of no account to me!" joyously exclaimed
Sybil, going on with her packing.
The next morning Lyon went out alone to make a few more purchases for
their voyage. While he was going around, he also bought all the daily
papers that he could get hold of. He returned to Sybil at an early hour
of the forenoon. He found her sitting down in idleness.
"Got entirely through packing, my darling?" he inquired cheerfully.
"Oh, yes, and I have nothing on earth to do now. How long this last day
will seem! At what hour may we go on board, this evening?"
"At sundown."
"Oh, that it were now sundown! How shall we contrive to pass the time
until then?"
"This will help us to pass the day, dear wife," he answered, laying the
pile of newspapers on the table between them.
Each took up a paper and began to look over it.
Lyon was deep in a political article, when a cry from Sybil startled
him.
"What is the matter?" he inquired, in alarm.
She did not answer. Her face was pale as ashes, and her eyes were
strained upon the paper.
"What do you see there?" again inquired her husband.
"Oh, Lyon! Lyon! we are lost! we are lost!" she cried in a voice of
agony.
In great anxiety he took the paper from her hand, and read the paragraph
to which she pointed. It ran thus:
"It is now certain that Sybil Berners, accused of the murder of Rosa
Blondelle, is not in Annapolis, as was falsely reported; but that she
has escaped in disguise, accompanied by her husband, who is also in
disguise; and that both are in the city of Norfolk."
Now it was Lyon's turn to grow pallid with fear, not for himself, but
for one dearer to him than his own life. Still he tried to control his
emotions, or at least to conceal them from her. He compelled himself to
answer calmly:
"Take courage, my darling! We are before them. In a few more hours we
shall be on board the ship."
Her hands were clasped tightly together; her eyes were fixed steadily
upon his face; her own face was white as marble.
"Oh, Lyon! save me! Oh, my husband, save me! You _know_ that I am
guiltless!" she prayed.
"Dearest wife, I will lay down my life for you, if necessary! Be
comforted! See! it is now two o'clock! In two more hours we may be on
shipboard!" he said.
"Let us go now! Let us go now!" she prayed, clasping her hands closely,
gazing in his eyes beseechingly.
"Very well, we will go at once," he answered; and he took up his hat and
hurried down stairs.
He told the landlord that, as the weather was now good, he thought he
would risk the roads, and try to make a half-day's journey that
afternoon, at least. And then, without waiting to hear the host's
expostulations, he just told him to make out the bill, and then he went
to the stables to put the horses to the wagon.
In half an hour all was ready for their departure--the bill paid, the
wagon at the door, and the luggage piled into it. And Sybil and Lyon
took leave of their temporary acquaintances; and Lyon handed Sybil up
into her seat, climbed up after her, and started the horses at a brisk
trot for the ferry-boat.
They reached Portsmouth in safety. Lyon drove down at once to the wharf,
engaged a rowboat, put Sybil and all their effects into it, and rowed
her across the water to where the Enterprise lay at anchor.
"Now I'm safe!" exclaimed Sybil, with a sigh of infinite relief, as she
stepped upon the deck.
The captain did not expect his passengers so soon, and he was busy; but
he came forward and welcomed them, and showed them into the cabin,
apologizing for its unready condition, consequent upon the bustle of
their preparations for sailing.
Lyon left his wife in the Captain's care, and went back to the shore to
complete the sale of his wagon and horses.
He was gone for nearly two hours, and when he returned he explained his
long absence by saying that, after all, the hoped-for purchaser had
refused to purchase, and that he had to leave his wagon and horses at a
stable in Portsmouth, and to retire to a restaurant and write a letter
to Captain Pendleton, and enclose an order for him to receive the
property on paying the livery.
Sybil was satisfied--nay, she was delighted. In company with Lyon she
walked up and down the deck, looking so joyous that the men about the
place could but remark upon it as they gossipped with each other.
The new voyagers took supper in the Captain's cabin, and afterwards
returned to the deck and remained on it until the sun set and the stars
came out.
"Oh, this sense of release from danger! Oh, this delightful sense of
freedom! And the heavenly starlit sky, and the beautiful water, and the
delicious breeze. Oh, the world is so lovely! Oh, life and liberty is so
sweet, so sweet! Oh, dear Lyon, I am so happy! And I love you so much!"
she exclaimed, almost delirious with joy at her great deliverance.
It was very late before Lyon could persuade her to leave the deck.
"I am too happy to sleep," she continually answered.
At length, however, he coaxed her to let him lead her to their
state-room.
There, in the darkness and silence, she grew more composed, though not
less happy. And in a few minutes after she had laid down, she fell
asleep.
She slept very soundly until morning, when she was awakened by the
cheerful chants of the sailors getting ready to make sail.
She lay a little while enjoying the joyous sounds that spoke to her so
happily of liberty, and then she arose and dressed herself, and went up
on deck, leaving Lyon still asleep.
The sun was just rising, and the harbor was beautiful. She walked about,
talking now to the captain, and now to one of the men, and exciting
wonder among them all, at her happiness.
At length she was joined by her husband, who had waked up the moment she