THE SECOND FLIGHT.
A beam of comfort, like the moon through clouds,
Gilds the black horror and directs their way.--DRYDEN.
It was yet early morning, and Lyon Berners still lay on his comfortable
bed in the spacious front chamber, at Pendleton Hall. The window
shutters were open, admitting a fine view of the wooded mountains, not
yet wholly divested of their gay autumn hues. A fine wood fire blazed in
the broad fireplace. A nice breakfast stood on a little stand by the
bed-side. A good-humored, motherly looking negro woman presided over the
little meal, while Captain Pendleton stood by the invalid, trying to
persuade him to take nourishment.
"But I have no inclination, dear friend," pleaded Mr. Berners, as he
reached out his pale hand, took a morsel of bread from the plate, and
put it to his lips.
"You must eat without inclination, then, Berners. It is your duty to
live," remarked Captain Pendleton.
"But, in the name of Heaven, what have I left to live for?" groaned the
bereaved husband.
"For a future of usefulness, if not of happiness; for a future of duty,
if not of domestic joys," replied the captain, earnestly.
Footsteps were heard upon the stairs without, but no one heeded them.
"'Duty,' 'usefulness!'" bitterly echoed Lyon Berners. "I might indeed
have lived and labored for them, and for my country and my kind,
if--if--_Oh, Sybil! Sybil! Oh, Sybil! Sybil! My young, sweet wife!_" He
broke off, and groaned with the insufferable, tearless agony of a strong
man's grief.
"HERE SHE IS, MARSTER! Bress de Lord, here she is, and Nelly too! Nelly
found her!" frantically exclaimed Joe, bursting open the chamber door,
while Sybil flew past him and threw herself with a sob of delight into
the arms of her husband. His brain reeled with the sudden, overwhelming
joy, as he clasped his wife to his heart.
"Good Heaven, man! why did you not prepare your master for this?" was
the first question Captain Pendleton thought of asking the negro.
Joe stared, and found nothing to answer. He did not understand
preparation.
Nelly jumped upon the bed, and insisted upon being recognized; but
nobody noticed her. Noble humanity is singularly ungrateful to their
four-footed friends.
Lyon Berners, forgetful of everybody and everything else in the world,
was gazing fondly, wonderingly into his wife's beautiful pale face.
_His_ face was like marble.
"My own, my own," he murmured. "By what miracle have you been
preserved?"
Sybil could not answer; she could only sob for joy at this reunion,
forgetful, poor child, of the awful danger in which she still stood.
Captain Pendleton remembered it. He first looked around to take note of
who was in the room. There were Mr. and Mrs. Berners, himself, Joe, and
the colored woman Margy--only _one_ new witness, if there were no
others outside who might have seen the entrance of Sybil.
He went and locked the door, that no one else should enter the chamber.
And then he called Joe apart to the distant window.
"You very reckless fellow! tell me who besides ourselves have seen Mrs.
Berners enter this house."
"Not a singly soul, marster, outen dis room. We walk all de way from de
Haunted Chapel, and didn't meet nobody we knowed. Miss Sybil she keep de
shawl over her head. Dem as did meet us couldn't a told who she was or
even if she was white or brack. When we got home here, I jes opens de
door like I always do, and Miss Sybil she follow me in, likewise Nelly.
Nobody seed us, likewise we seed nobody, 'cept it was Jerome, as was
jest a passin' outen de back door wid a breakfast tray in his hands; but
he didn't see us, acause his back was to us, which that fellow is always
too lazy to look over his own shoulder, no matter what may be behind
him," said Joe, contemptuously.
"That is true; but lucky on this occasion. Then you are certain that no
one out of this room knows of Mrs. Berner's presence in the house?"
"Sartain sure, marster!" answered Joe, in the most emphatic manner.
"Then I must warn you not to hint--mind, Joe--not so much as to _hint_
the fact to any living soul," said the captain, solemnly.
"Hi, Marse Capping! who you think is a 'fernal fool? Not dis Joe,"
answered the negro, indignantly.
"Mind, then, that's all," repeated the captain, who then dismissed Joe,
and beckoned the motherly looking colored woman to come to him.
"Margy," he whispered, "do you understand the horrible danger in which
Mrs. Berners stands?"
"Oh, my good Lord, Marse Clement, don't I understand it? My blood runs
cold and hot by turns every time I look at her and think of it,"
muttered the woman, with a dismayed look.
"I am glad you feel and appreciate this peril. It is said that no secret
is safe that is known to three persons. This secret is known to five:
Mr. and Mrs. Berners, Joe, you, and myself! I think I can rely on the
secresy of all," said Captain Pendleton, with a meaning look.
"You can rely on _mine_, Marse Clement! I'd suffer my tongue to be tored
out by the roots afore ever I'd breathe a word about her being here,"
said the woman.
"Quite right! Now we must see about concealing her for a few days, until
we can ship her off to some foreign country."
"To be sure, marster; but are you certain that no one down stairs saw
her when she came in?"
"Quite certain," answered the captain.
Meanwhile Sybil sat down on the chair at the side of Lyon's bed, and
with her hand clasped in his, began to tell the story of her abduction
and captivity among the robbers.
Lyon Berners, seeing his host now at leisure, beckoned him to approach
and hear the strange story.
Sybil told it briefly to her wondering audience.
"And if they had not carried me off, I should not now be at liberty,"
she concluded.
That this was true, they all agreed.
Now Sybil had to hear the particulars of the explosion, and the names of
its victims. She shuddered as Captain Pendleton went over the list.
"One feels the less compassion, however, when one considers that this
was a case of the 'engineer hoist with his own petard.'"
"Don't you think, Marse Clement, as Mrs. Berners would be the better
for a bit of breakfast?" inquired Aunt Margy.
"Certainly. And here is Berners, touched nothing yet. And everything
allowed to grow cold in our excitement and forgetfulness," said Captain
Pendleton, anxiously examining into the condition of the tray.
"Oh, never you mind, Marse Clem, I can go down and fetch up some hot
breakfast, and another cup and sasser, and then may be the master and
missis will take a bit of breakfast here together," put in Margy, as she
lifted the tray to take it from the room.
"Be careful to let no word drop concerning our new visitor," said
Captain Pendleton, as he cautiously locked the door after the woman.
While she was gone on this errand, Sybil told her friends further
details of her life among the mountain robbers; among other matters, she
related the story of Gentiliska Dubarry, at which her hearers were much
surprised.
"I think it is easy to see through this matter," said Lyon Berners,
after a pause; "this robber chief--this Captain Inconnu--this Satan of
the band must be, or rather must have been the husband of Rosa
Blondelle, and most probably her assassin. The motive for all his crimes
seems clear enough. He could never have been a gentleman. He must always
have been an adventurer--a criminal adventurer. He married the beautiful
young Scotch widow for her money, and having spent it all, and
discovered another heiress in this poor vagrant girl, he put Rosa out of
the way, that he might be free to marry another fortune.
"No devil is so bad, however, but that there is a speck of good about
him somewhere; and this adventurer, gambler, smuggler, robber, murderer
was unwilling that an innocent woman should suffer for his crime;
therefore he had you abducted to prevent you from falling into the hands
of the law."
"I do not know," said Sybil; "but I think that in having me carried off,
he yielded to the threats or persuasions of Gentiliska, who certainly
seemed to know enough of the matter to give her great power over him.
Indeed she hinted as much to me. And she certainly knew of his presence
at my mask ball."
"The daring impudence, the reckless effrontery of that man!" exclaimed
Captain Pendleton, in astonishment and disgust.
"You said, dear Sybil, that he came in the character of Death?" inquired
Mr. Berners.
"Yes," replied his wife, with a shudder.
"Ah, then I do not wonder at that poor woman's great--instinctive
horror--of that mask! I remember now that, every time he approached her,
she shivered as with an ague fit. And yet she could not have suspected
his identity," said Mr. Berners.
Next Sybil spoke of the discovery of the Pendleton plate and jewels in
the possession of the robbers.
"I am glad of that, at all events, Clement, since it gives you a sure
clue to the recovery of your stolen goods," suggested Mr. Berners.
"A clue that I shall not now follow, as to do so might seriously
compromise the safety of Mrs. Berners. Our first care must be for her,"
answered Captain Pendleton.
"Always thoughtful, always magnanimous, dear friend," warmly exclaimed
Lyon Berners, while Sybil eloquently looked her gratitude.
At that moment there was heard a low tap at the door, and a low voice
saying:
"It's only me, Marse Clem, with the breakfast things."
The captain stepped to the door, unlocked it, and admitted Margy with
the breakfast tray, and then carefully locked it again.
As the woman drew nearer to Sybil, she began to stare in astonishment
at the India shawl that lady wore around her shoulders.
"You know it, do you, Margy? Well, yes, you are right. It is the
celebrated Pendleton shawl that the captain's great-grandfather brought
away from the palace of the Rajah, at the siege of some unpronounceable
place in Hindostan," smiled Sybil.
"That's it," laughed her host. "My great-grandfather, a captain in the
British army, _stole_ it from the Rajah, and Mr. Inconnu, a captain of
banditti, took it from us!"
But Margy was much too dignified to relish such jokes at the expense of
her master's family, even from her master's lips. She put the tray upon
the stand and arranged the breakfast, all in stately silence.
Captain Pendleton, with old-fashioned hospitality, pressed his guests to
their repast; and so Lyon Berners being propped up with pillows, and
Sybil sitting in the easy-chair, with the stand placed between them, ate
their breakfast together; not forgetting to feed little Nelly, who was
certainly the most famished of the party.
When the breakfast was over, Margy went out with the tray, followed by
Joe.
Mr. and Mrs. Berners being left alone with their host, the captain began
to devise means first for her temporary concealment in the house, and
afterwards for her successful removal to a seaport.
"I confess, Mrs. Berners," began the captain, "that when I saw you enter
this room I was as much alarmed for your safety as astonished at your
appearance. But since your servant has told me, and you have confirmed
his story, that no one recognized you, either on the road or in the
house, until you reached this room, my anxieties are allayed. The
prevalent belief that you perished in the explosion at the Haunted
Chapel has caused all pursuit of you to be abandoned for the present.
And so long as we can keep you out of the sight of others than the few
who have already seen you, you will be perfectly secure."
"Yes; but we must not trust to this security," interrupted Mr. Berners;
"we must rather avail ourselves of this lull in the excitement, this
cessation of all pursuit, to get as fast and far away from this place as
possible.
"Oh, yes! yes! dear Lyon!" eagerly exclaimed Sybil, "let us get as fast
and as far away from this place as we can. Let us get to Europe, or
anywhere where we can have rest and peace. Oh! Heaven only knows how I
long for rest and peace!"
"You are both right. I shall not oppose your going; but shall rather
speed your departure, just as soon as Berners shall be able to travel.
But in the meantime we must contrive some place of safe concealment for
you in the house," said the captain, as he arose and opened an inner
door leading to a small adjoining chamber. "Could you live in there for
a few days, Mrs. Berners?" he inquired, in some uneasiness.
"Live in there! Why, that is a palace chamber compared to what I have
been lately accustomed to!" exclaimed Sybil, gratefully.
"Well, then it is all right. That room is unoccupied and has no outlet
except through this. That shall be your private withdrawing room when
the doctor, or any one else who is not in our secret, happens to come
into this room. At all other times you may safely take the freedom of
both chambers," said the captain cheerfully.
"A thousand thanks in _words_; for, ah! in all _else_ I am bankrupt, and
can never repay your goodness, unless Heaven should show me some
singular favor to enable me to do it," said Sybil, fervently.
And Lyon Berners joined warmly in her expressions of gratitude.
"If you, either of you, knew how much gratification it gives me to
serve you, you would not think it necessary to say a single word more on
the subject!" exclaimed Clement Pendleton, flushing.
"And now tell me about my dear, bonny Beatrix. Surely _she_ may see me!
I hope she is quite well," said Sybil.
"Trix is always well. She is now at Staunton. She is one of your most
devoted friends, Mrs. Berners, and she will regret not to have been home
to receive you. But as for myself, great as my faith is in my sister, I
hardly know whether I am glad or sorry for her absence on this occasion.
Certainly the fewer witnesses there are to your presence here, the
better. Beatrix would die before she would knowingly betray you; but she
might do it unconsciously, in which case she would never forgive
herself," gravely replied Captain Pendleton.
"Well, I am sorry not to see her. But at any rate, after I have gone I
wish you to send her this shawl, with my love, by some safe messenger,"
Sybil requested, smiling sadly.
"I will be sure to do so. She will be glad to get the old heirloom,
which she has been bewailing ever since it was lost; and she will also
be well pleased to owe its restitution to you," replied the Captain; and
then, surmising that his guests might like to be left alone for an hour
or two, he arose and retired from the room, cautioning Sybil to turn the
key to prevent the intrusion of any one who was not to be let into the
dangerous secret of her presence in the house.
Three precious hours of each other's exclusive company the young people
enjoyed, and then Captain Pendleton tapped at the door to announce the
approach of the village doctor. Sybil unlocked the door, and hastily
retreated into her withdrawing room, where she remained during the
doctor's visit.
As soon as the physician departed, Aunt Margy came in with fresh water,
clean towels, and everything else that was necessary to make the inner
chamber comfortable and pleasant for the occupation of Mrs. Berners.
When the early dinner was ready, Sybil took hers with her husband at his
bed-side.
And from that time, as long as they remained at Captain Pendleton's
house, they ate their meals together.
Twelve tranquil days they passed at Pendleton Park. Their secret was
well kept, at least during their stay at the house.
On the thirteenth day, Mr. Berners being sufficiently recovered to bear
the journey, the fugitive pair prepared for their new flight.
Upon this occasion their disguise was admirably well arranged. They were
got up as mulattoes. Their faces, necks, and hands were carefully
colored with fine brown umber; Sybil's black tresses were cut short and
crimped; Lyon's auburn hair and beard were also crimped, and dyed black;
Sybil was dressed in a suit of Margy's Sunday clothes, and Lyon in a
holiday suit of Joe's.
Serious as the circumstances were, the lady and gentleman could not
forbear laughing as they looked into each other's faces.
"When we introduced mask balls into this quiet country place, we had no
idea how long the masquerading would last, so far as we were concerned,
had we, dear?" inquired Lyon Berners.
Sybil smiled and shook her head.
They were armed with a pass such as colored people were required to have
from their masters to show to the authorities before they could be
permitted to travel.
Our fugitives were not now going to Norfolk, where their story and their
persons were too well known; but to Baltimore, where they were perfect
strangers. So their pass was to this effect:
PENDLETON PARK, }
Near Blackville, Dec. 15th, 18--.}
"To all whom it may concern: This is to certify that my man
Caesar, with his wife Dinah, are permitted to go from this place
to Baltimore to return between this date and the first of next
March.
"CLEMENT PENDLETON."
This was designed to protect the supposed darkies until they should
reach the Monumental City, where they were to take the first opportunity
of throwing off their disguises and embarking under another name in the
first outward bound ship for a foreign port.
Provided with this protection, and with a well-filled old knapsack that
"Caesar" slung over his shoulders, and with a well-stuffed old carpet bag
that "Dinah" carried in her hand, the fugitive couple took a long last
leave of their friend, and entered the farm wagon, by which Joe was to
drive them to the hamlet of Upton, to meet the night coach for
Baltimore.
The night was very dark; they could scarcely see each other's faces,
much less the road before them.
"Marster," said Joe, in his extreme anxiety, "I hopes you'll pardon the
liberty, sir; but has you thought to take money enough for you and the
missis?"
"Plenty, Joe! Pendleton, Heaven bless him, has seen to all that," smiled
Mr. Berners.
"And, Marster, sir, I hopes as you've made some 'rangements as how we
may hear from you when you gets over yonder."
"Certainly, Joe. A correspondence that will be both sure and secret has
been contrived between the captain and myself."
"And, Missis," said Joe, turning weepingly towards his lady, "when
you're over yonder, don't forget poor Joe; but send for him as soon as
ever you can."
"Indeed I will, Joe," promised Sybil.
"And, missis! please don't let little Nelly forget me, neither. I love
that little thing like a child!"
"Nelly will not forget you, Joe."
And the little dog, that Sybil had insisted on taking with her, even at
the risk of its being recognized as hers, now jumped up from her place
at her mistress' feet, and ran and licked Joe's face, as if to assure
him of her continued love.
At which, for the first time, Joe burst out crying, and sobbed hard.
"Come, my man, prove your devotion to your mistress by deeds, not tears!
Drive fast, or we will miss the coach," Lyon Berners advised.
Joe wiped his eyes with the cuff of his coat, and whipped up his horses,
and they rattled over the rocky road for an hour or more before they
reached the little hamlet, where they were to wait for the coach. It was
very late, and all Upton was asleep, with the exception of the hostlers
at the stable, where the coach stopped to change horses. Here Joe drew
up his wagon, but his passengers retained their seats while waiting for
the coming of the stage-coach. They had not waited more than five
minutes, when they heard the guard's warning horn blow, and the huge
vehicle rumble down the street, and pull up before the stable door.
Very quickly the tired horses, were taken out and led away to rest, and
the fresh ones brought forth.
Meanwhile Lyon Berners alighted, and spoke to the agent, to take places
for himself and his wife.
"Show your pass, my man! show your pass! We can't take you without a
pass. How do we know but you are running away?" objected the agent.
Lyon Berners smiled bitterly to think how near the man had inadvertently
approached the truth. He handed up the pass, which the agent carefully
examined before he returned it, saying:
"Yes, that's all right; but you and the girl will have to get up on top,
there. We can't have any darkies inside, you know. And in fact, if we
could, there's no room, you see; the inside is full."
"Caesar" helped "Dinah" up on the top of the coach, and then climbed
after her. Joe handed up the little dog; and was about to take a
dangerously affecting leave of his beloved master and mistress, when
luckily the coachman cracked his whip and the horses started.
Joe watched it out of sight, and then got into his seat on the wagon,
and drove back to Pendleton Park, the most disconsolate darkey under the
sun.
Meanwhile the flying pair pursued their journey, almost happy, because
at length they were together.
Soon after sunrise the next morning the stage reached the station at
which it was to breakfast. Not wishing to subject their disguise to the
too prying eyes of strangers in broad daylight, they took the provisions
that they had brought along, and went apart in the woods to eat them,
after which they resumed their places on the top of the coach, in time
for its starting.
At noon, when the coach stopped to dine, they went apart again to
satisfy their hunger.
It was not until night, when they reached an obscure road-side inn, that
they dared to enter a house or ask for a cup of tea. Being "darkies,"
they were sent to the kitchen, where they were regaled with a very hot
pot of the beverage that "cheers but not inebriates."
Here also, as they had to change coaches, they were required to show
their pass before they could be permitted to take their uncomfortable
seats on the top of the vehicle to continue their journey.
They travelled both by day and night, never giving themselves any rest.
The policy of the first day was continued to the end of their journey.
They always took their meals apart from other people during the broad
daylight, denying themselves the comfort of a cup of tea or coffee until
night, when, in some dimly lighted country kitchen, they could safely
indulge in that refreshment.
At the end of the third day they arrived at Baltimore.
It was just nightfall when they reached the inn where the stage stopped.
They alighted, with knapsack, carpet bag, and dog, and found themselves
on the sidewalk of a crowded street.
"This way," whispered Lyon Berners to his wife, as he turned into a
by-street. "Sybil," he continued, when they felt themselves
comparatively alone in the less thronged thoroughfare--"Sybil, if we are
to drop our disguises here, we must do so before we enter any inn,
because we should have no opportunity afterwards, without detection."
And relieving her of the carpet bag and carrying that as well as the
knapsack, he led her by a long walk to the woods on the outskirts of the
city, where, by the side of a clear stream, they washed the dye from
their faces and hands, and then changed their upper garments. Their
knapsack contained every requisite for a decent toilet; and so, in
something less than half an hour, they had transformed themselves back
again from plain, respectable darkies, to plain, respectable whites; and
"Caesar" and "Dinah" became in their next phase, the Reverend Mr. and
Mrs. Martin. The only thing that could not be changed was the color of
Lyon's hair, which, having been dyed black, must remain black until time
and growth should restore its natural color.
As the Reverend Mr. and Mrs. Martin, they walked back to the city. At
the first hack stand "Mr. Martin" called a carriage, placed "Mrs.
Martin," with her pet dog, knapsack, and carpet bag in it, entered and
took a seat by her side, and told the hackman to drive to the best
hotel.
"For it is our policy now to go boldly to the best," he said, as he took
Sybil's hands, cold from her outdoor toilet, into his and tried to warm
them.
They were driven to the "Calvert House," where Mr. Berners registered
their names as the Reverend Isaiah Martin and wife; and where they were
received with the respect due to the cloth, and shown to a handsome room
on the first floor, which was cheerfully lighted by a chandelier, and
warmed by a bright coal fire in the grate.
Here poor Sybil enjoyed the first real repose she had seen since the
commencement of her flight. Here Lyon ordered a comfortable and even
luxurious supper; and the fugitive pair supped together in peace and
safety.
Although it was late when the table was cleared, Lyon felt that no time
was to be lost before he should make inquiries about the outward bound
ships. So having ordered the morning and evening papers to be brought to
their room, he first examined the shipping advertisements, and finding
that the "Energy," Captain Strong, was to sail for Havre on the next day
but one, taking passengers as well as freight, he put on his hat, and
leaving Sybil to amuse herself with the newspapers during his absence,
he left the hotel to see the shipping agent.
A strange sense of peace and safety had fallen upon Sybil, and she sat
there before her cheerful fire reading the news of the day, and
occasionally contrasting her situation now, in the finest room of a
large and crowded hotel, with her position but a few days before in the
Robbers' Cave. The time passed pleasantly enough until the return of Mr.
Berners.
He entered very cheerfully, telling her that he had engaged a cabin
passage in the "Energy," which would sail on the day after to-morrow,
and that they must be on board the next afternoon.
Sybil was delighted to hear this. Visions of perfect freedom, and of
foreign travel with her beloved Lyon, flitted before her imagination.
They talked over their plans for the next day, and then retired to bed,
and slept well until the next morning.
They arose and breakfasted early. The morning was fine and clear, and
they wrapped themselves in their outer garments, and started with the
intention of going out to purchase a couple of trunks and other
necessaries for their long voyage.
Lyon was cheerful; Sybil was even gay; both were full of bright
anticipations for the future. For were they not flying toward freedom?
They had reached the great lower halls of the hotel, when they were
stopped by a sound of altercation in the office, which was on their
right hand as they went out.
"I tell you," said the clerk of the house, in an angry voice, "that
there is no one of that name here!"
"And I tell you there _is_! And there she is now! I'd know her among ten
thousand!" exclaimed a harsh, rude-looking man, who the next instant
came out of the office and confronted Sybil, saying roughly:
"I know you, madam! You're my prisoner, Madam Berners! And you'll not do
_me_, I reckon, as you did Purley! I'm Jones! And 'tan't one murder
you've got to answer for now, but half a dozen!"
And without a word of warning, he snapped a pair of handcuffs upon the
lady's delicate wrists.
"VILLAIN!" thundered Sybil's husband, as with a sweep of his strong arm
he felled the ruffian to the floor.
It was but a word and a blow, "and the blow came first."
He caught his half-fainting wife to his bosom, and strove to free her
from those insulting bracelets; but he could not wrench them off without
wounding and bruising her tender flesh.
Meanwhile the fallen officer sprung to his feet, and called upon all
good citizens to help him execute his warrant.
A crowd collected then. A riot ensued. Lyon Berners, holding his poor
young wife to his bosom, vainly, madly, desperately defended her against
all comers, dealing frantic blows with his single right arm on all
sides. Of course, for the time being, he was insane.
"Knock him down! Brain him! but don't hurt the woman," shouted some one
in the crowd. And some other one, armed with a heavy iron poker, dealt
him a crashing blow upon the bare head. And Sybil's brave defender
relaxed his protecting hold upon her form, fell broken, bleeding,
perhaps dying at her feet.
A piercing scream broke from her lips. She stooped to raise her husband,
but was at that instant seized by the officer, and forced from the spot.
"Shame! shame!" cried a bystander. "Take the handcuffs off the poor
woman, and let her look at her husband."
"Poor woman indeed!" exclaimed Jones, the officer, "she's the biggest
devil alive! Do you know what she's done? Not only murdered a beautiful
lady; but blown up a church and killed half a dozen men!"
A shudder shook the crowd. Could this be true? A score of questions was
put to Bailiff Jones. But he would not stop to answer any one of them.
Calling his coadjutor Smith to help him, they each took an arm of Sybil
and forced her from the scene.
Faint, speechless, powerless under this sudden and awful accumulation of
misery, the wretched young wife was torn from her dying husband and
thrust into a stage-coach, guarded by three other bailiffs, and
immediately started on her return journey.
Resistance was useless, lamentations were in vain. She sat dumb with a
despair never before exceeded, scarcely ever before equalled in the case
of any sufferer under the sun.
There were no other passengers but the sheriff's officers and their one
prisoner.
Of the first part of this terrible homeward journey there is but little
to tell. They stopped at the appointed hours and stations to breakfast,
dine, and sup, and to water and change the horses, but never to sleep.
They travelled day and night; and as no other passenger joined them, it
was probable that the sheriff's officers had engaged all the seats for
themselves and their important charge.
During that whole horrible journey the hapless young wife neither ate,
drank, slumbered, nor spoke; all the faculties of mind and body, all the
functions of nature, seemed to be suspended.
It was on the night of the third day, and they were in the last stage of
the journey.
They were going slowly down that terrible mountain pass, leading to the
village of Blackville. The road was even unusually difficult and
dangerous, and the night was very dark, so that the coachman was driving
slowly and carefully, when suddenly the bits of the leaders were seized
and the coach stopped.
In some alarm the bailiffs thrust their heads out of the side windows to
the right and left, to see what the obstacle might be.
To their horror and amazement they found it surrounded by half a score
of highwaymen, armed to the teeth.