Cruel as the grave
Lyon and Sybil had ridden on through the darkness, over that wild
country road. Their horses had had a very hard day's work in the wagon
harness, and had not recovered from their fatigue. They were still very
tired, and all unaccustomed to the saddle. The road was also very rough,
and the night very dark. Their progress was therefore difficult and
slow.
Unconscious of being followed and overheard, they talked freely of their
plans. Their prospects of final escape were not now nearly so hopeful as
they had been on their two former attempts. They were now undisguised,
and unprovided for the journey, except with money and a change of
clothing. For necessary food they would have to stop at houses, and thus
incur some degree of danger. All this they discussed as their horses
slowly toiled along the rugged road up hill and down, through woods and
fields, until they came near that mountain pass that they had been dimly
seeing before them all night long and that looked like a grey cleft in a
black wall.
"It must be near morning now. But I have not a very clear idea where we
are. I shall be glad when it is light if it is only to consult my map
and compass," said Lyon, uneasily.
"I never was on this side of the mountain before, but it does seem to me
that that must be a spur of the Black Ridge which we see before us,"
suggested Sybil.
"I was thinking the very same thing," added Lyon. "But if that is so, we
must have wandered far out of our way."
"And hush! Don't you hear something?" inquired Sybil, when they had
ridden a little farther on.
"No; what is it?"
"Listen! I want to know if you recognize it," she said.
"I hear a faint, distant roaring, as of a water-fall," he answered,
stopping his horse to hear the better.
"It is our Black Torrent!" exclaimed Sybil.
"Good Heaven! Then we have wandered out of our way with a vengeance.
However, there is no help for it now! We must go on, or stop here until
it is light enough to consult the compass."
"And at any rate, Lyon, no one will think of looking for us so near
home," she added.
"That is true," he admitted.
And they rode on slowly, looking about as well as they could through
the darkness, for a convenient place on which to dismount from the jaded
steeds.
Their path now lay through that deep mountain pass. Steep precipices
arose on either side. They picked their way slowly and carefully through
it, until they entered a crooked path leading down the side of a thickly
wooded hill. Here they rode on, a little more at their ease, until they
reached the bottom of the hill and the edge of the wood, and came out
upon an old forsaken road, running along the shores of a deep and rapid
river, with another mountain range behind.
"Well, Heaven bless us! here we are!" exclaimed Lyon Berners, reining up
his horse and looking around himself in a ludicrous state of mind, made
up of surprise, dismay, and resignation.
"Yes; on the shores of the Black River, at the head of our own Black
Valley," chimed in Sybil, in a tone of voice in which there was more of
satisfaction than of disappointment. Poor Sybil was sentimental and
illogical, like all her sex.
"But at a point at which, I may venture to say, that even you, its
owner, never reached before," added Lyon, as he touched up his horse and
led the way up the road, still looking about as well as he could through
the darkness, for a place in which to stop and rest their horses.
Suddenly, as they rode slowly onward, they heard approaching them from
the opposite direction the sound of a wagon and horse, accompanied by a
human voice, singing:
"Brothers and sisters there will meet,
Brothers and sisters there will meet,
Brothers and sisters there will meet--
Will meet, to part no more!"
"Yes, bress de Lord! so dey will. And all departed friends will meet,
and meet to part no more! GLORY!" rang out the voice of the singer, who
seemed to be working himself up into enthusiasm.
"It is only some negro with his team," said Lyon Berners, to soothe the
spirits of Sybil, which always took the alarm at the approach of any
stranger.
"Yes; but what an hour for a negro, or for any one else but fugitives
like ourselves, to be out," said Sybil, doubtingly.
"Oh, he is making an early start for market perhaps. It _must_ be near
morning."
"Oh, there will be glory--
Glory! glory! glory!--
Oh, there will be glory
Around the throne of God!"
sang the unseen singer, making the mountain caves and glens ring with
his melody.
"Yes; bress Marster! there _will_ be Glories and Hallelujahs all through
heaven," he added; "for--
"Saints and angels there will meet,
Saints and angels there will meet,
Saints and angels there will meet--
Will meet, to part no more."
"And me and my young missis there will meet! And meet to part no more!
GLORY!" added the singer, with a sudden shout.
"Lyon, that's our Joe!" exclaimed Sybil, in joyful surprise.
The cart and horses now loomed dimly through the darkness, being almost
upon them.
"Joe!" called out Sybil, in a gleeful voice--"Joe!"
"Who dar?" answered the man, in affright.
"It is I! Sybil, Joe!"
"Oh, my good gracious Lord in heaven! it's her spirit as is calling me,
and she must be dead!" gasped the man, in a quavering voice.
By this time the two horses were beside the cart, upon the seat of
which the driver sat in an extremity of terror.
"Joe, don't be alarmed! It is Mrs. Berners herself who speaks to you,
and I am with her," said Mr. Berners, soothingly.
"Oh, Marse Lyon! Is it ralely and truly her herself and you yourself?"
inquired the man, very doubtingly.
"Really and truly Sybil and myself, Joe."
"Oh! Lord! how you did scare me!"
"Compose yourself, Joe, and tell me what you are doing here at this time
of the morning."
"Oh, Marse Lyon, sir, I came arter the housekeeping truck as you left
here, which I couldn't get a chance to fetch it before, 'cause I was
afraid o' 'citin' 'spicion."
"And have you the things in that cart?"
"Yes, Marse."
"Then hold on for a moment, and spread the mattress on the bottom of the
cart for your young mistress to lie down upon and rest, while you and I
have a little talk."
Joe promptly obeyed this order; and when the rude bed was ready, Lyon
lifted Sybil from her seat and laid her upon it. The tired horses were
then relieved from their saddles and turned loose for a while. And then
Mr. Berners and Joe sat down by the roadside to consult.
"And first I want you to tell me, Joe, whether our sojourn at the
Haunted Chapel ever was found out," said Mr. Berners.
"Lor, no, sir! it never were even suspicioned! quite contrary wise,
indeed."
"How so?"
"Why, it was 'ported 'round as you was bofe at Marster Capping
Pendulum's all the time, which when himself was taxed with it, he never
let on as you wasn't there; quite contrary wise, as I said afore."
"But how now?"
"Well, he up and 'fied 'em all, and said his house was his cassil,
which he would shelter any one he pleased, and specially a noble and
injured lady."
"High heart! I thank him!" exclaimed Mr. Berners.
"Which 'fiance you see, sir, confarmed everybody in the faith that you
was bofe hid in his house, so artfully as even the sarch-warranters as
went there couldn't find you. And so, sir, nobody, from first to last,
has once said 'Haunted Chapel.'"
"Joe, how far are we from the Haunted Chapel?"
"Not more 'n a mile, sir, from the little path that leads up to it."
"Well, I think we had better go there again and rest to-day, and resume
our journey to-night. There can be no safer place."
"No whar in all the world, sir."
"Then we will go at once. Throw the saddles into the cart, at your
mistress' feet, so as not to crowd her. I will then drive the cart, and
you may lead the two riding horses after us," said Mr. Berners, going at
once to the side of the rude vehicle where Sybil lay in so deep a sleep
that she did not wake, even when he mounted the seat and started the
springless cart jolting along the rough road.
Joe led the saddle horses close behind, and so they went on.
"Joe," said Mr. Berners, "I hope that all things go on well at home."
"As well as can be, sir, marser and missus being away. Capping Pendulum,
he shows his powerful 'torney, and tends to the 'state. And Missus
Winterose and her darters minds the house. Only they's in constant
terrors all along o' that band o' bugglers."
"Band of burglars, Joe?"
"Yes, sir, and highway robbers as well."
"Indeed! Joe, I have twice lately heard this band spoken of. Does such
a one really exist?"
"Well, sir, it _do_. The neighborhood never was so mislested with
robbers since a neighborhood it has been. Why, sir, Mr. Morgan's new
store, at Blackville was broke open and robbed of about twelve hundred
dollars' worth of goods in one night."
"And none of it recovered!"
"No, sir. And, sir, Capping Pendulum's own house was entered and robbed
of jewelry and plate to the tune of about two thousand dollars."
"I am very sorry for that! And no clue to the robbers?"
"Not the leastest in the world, sir! And no later'n last night, Judge
Beresford was riding home from the village, where he had been at the
tavern, playing cards with a lot of gentlemen, and had won a deal of
money, which he had about him, when, in the middle of the long woods
below his own house, he was stopped by two men; one who seized his
bridle, and one who pinted a pistol at his head, and gave him his choice
of his money or his life. The Judge he choose his life, and handed over
his winnins."
"I'm not sorry for him! A man who gains money in that way deserves to
lose it. But I _am_ astounded at all that you have told me."
"Yes, sir! and the old ladies in charge of Black Hall is more 'stounded
than you are, sir; being 'stounded to that degree that they sleep with
the dogs in the room; long of 'em."
"This should be seen to. There should be a vigilance committee. But here
we are at the path, Joe, and my wife is still in a deep sleep; and I do
not wish to wake her; nor can we drive the cart through the thicket.
Hold! I'll tell you what we can do. We can take the mattress by its four
corners, and carry her on it to the chapel. If we are careful, we need
not even wake her," said Mr. Berners, as he stopped the cart and got
down from his seat.
Joe tied the two saddle horses to one of the trees, and came around to
the cart to help his master.
Between them they cautiously lifted the mattress, and bore it along
towards the opening of the path.
On first being moved, Sybil sighed once and turned over and then she
fell into a still deeper sleep, from which she did not again awake even
when they bore her into the dreadful Haunted Chapel, and laid her down,
still on the mattress, in the old place, to the right of the altar.
"Poor child! She was so tired, so worn out in body and mind, that she
could scarcely sit her horse. Yet she never once complained, nor should
I have even surmised the extent of her prostration, were it not for this
coma-like sleep. She will not wake now. We may safely leave her alone
while we go back and bring our saddle horses here, for we must bring
them in order to hide them to-day and use them to-night. And you, Joe,
after you have helped me to bring the horses through the thicket, must
go to Blackville and buy food and bring it to us to-night before we
resume our journey."
"Yes, sir; and meantimes, there is some crackers and cheese and
sweetmeats, and likewise a bottle of port wine, in the cart, as you left
in the chapel when you went away."
"Oh, indeed! that will be a godsend, Joe! We must bring that back to the
chapel with us when we come," said Mr. Berners, as with his servant he