HOME.
There blend the ties that strengthen
Our hearts in hours of grief,
The silver links that lengthen
Joy's visits when most brief!--BERNARD BARTON.
"Dear Lyon, how came you here so soon after your dreadful accident, and
at such a risk to your life?"
"My dearest Sybil, what led you to give yourself up?"
These questions were simultaneously asked of each other by the husband
and wife, as soon as they were fairly upon their journey.
Then their eyes met, and despite the gravity of their position, both
smiled.
"Whose question shall be answered first?" inquired Lyon.
"Oh! mine! mine!" exclaimed Sybil; "tell me, dear Lyon, how it is that
you are able to be here at all. The bailiffs indeed told me that you
were not dangerously injured; if it had not been for that assurance, I
should have died with anxiety; but still I had every reason to suppose
that you were very seriously injured. How could you get up so soon? How
could you bear the stage-coach journey? Are you sure that it has not
endangered your life?"
"My dearest Sybil, no," said Mr. Berners, answering her last question
first. "On the contrary, it has saved it; for if I had remained in
Baltimore in that terrible state of anxiety about you, I should
certainly have fallen into a brain-fever. My injuries were not nearly so
severe as they seemed. The blow stunned me, and cut my scalp in a
glancing way. It bled very profusely, so that the great flow of blood
probably saved me from a fit of illness, at the least."
"But the jarring journey by the coach?"
"I did not come that way. I came by water."
"Oh! I forget that you could come so. Go on."
"After you were taken from me, I was laid upon a sofa, where I found
myself when I recovered consciousness. The stage-coach that had carried
you off had been gone an hour, and no other was to start until the next
morning. To hope to overtake you was vain. But to meet you on your
arrival at Blackville was practicable, by taking the steamer that was to
start at noon. So I ordered a carriage, threw myself into it, and was
driven to the pier, where I took passage in the Falcon, bound for
Richmond."
"But, oh, Lyon! how could you have borne even so much exertion as that,
so soon after your accident?"
"Not very well, to tell you the truth. For as soon as I got on board, I
had to turn into my berth, and lay there with ice on my head and mustard
at my heels, until the boat arrived at Richmond. But I was then well
enough to leave the steamer and embark, on board a schooner, bound up
the river. At the mouth of the Black River I got into a small fishing
smack, that brought me to Blackville."
"And you reached the village--"
"Only this morning. I expected to find you in the hands of the
authorities, when, to my amazement, I heard that you had been rescued
from the bailiffs by that band of road robbers. I had scarcely recovered
from that astounding intelligence before I met Sheridan hurrying from
the hotel towards the court-house."
"To get my bail; but go on."
"He was surprised to see me, of course, but drew my arm in his own and
begged me to go with him. On our way thither he told me of the almost
incredible news that you had given yourself up to justice; that there
had been a preliminary examination, and that you were detained in
honorable custody by the high sheriff, until he, as your counsel, should
apply to the court to have you released upon recognizance. I went with
him to the court-room, where I found Pendleton and his sister. It seems
that Pendleton had come to Blackville to meet Beatrix, who was returning
from her visit to the city; but on hearing what was afoot they had gone
into court to tender their services in case they should be needed."
"Oh!" burst forth Sybil in enthusiasm, "what a noble pair is that
brother and sister! What man in this world is worthy to marry Beatrix,
or what woman to be the wife of Clement?"
"Yet I hope they both will be happily wedded, for all that," observed
Lyon. "And now, dear Sybil, you know the rest. You know that Judge
Ruthven 'took the responsibility' of releasing you upon our united
recognizance for your appearance at court! And now, as I have told you
all I have to tell, I would like to hear all that has befallen you since
we parted, and above all, what induced you to give yourself up."
"Stay! tell me; did I not _right_ in giving myself up?"
"Yes, dear Sybil. Being separated from me, and in the hands of outlaws,
you did right to yield to law. But tell me the immediate motive of your
action."
Being so pressed, Sybil commenced and related all that happened to her
from the time that she had been so rudely torn from the side of her
wounded husband to the moment that she met him again in the court-room.
And she did not fail to give due credit to young Raphael, her devoted
worshipper and brave deliverer.
At the close of the narrative, Lyon Berners turned towards the boy,
saying:
"Give me your hand, young friend! Henceforth you are our son, to share
our home and hearts, and to be cared for as long as we all shall live!"
Raphael bowed low over the hand that was extended to him.
And no more words were then spoken, for the carriage was just turning in
to the elm avenue leading up to Black Hall.
But when Sybil came in sight of her home, she suddenly turned to her
husband, and asked:
"Oh, Lyon! what has become of my little Nelly? You know we left her
locked up in our chamber that morning we started out for a walk, and was
stopped by the sheriff's officers in the hall of the hotel. What has
become of her; do you know?"
"She is safe. I brought her from Baltimore to Blackville with me. But
then--I am very sorry; but in the rush of other events I forgot her, and
left her in the hotel. However, she will be well taken care of, for the
people know her."
"I am so glad to hear she is safe. We will send for her to-morrow,"
smiled Sybil.
The carriage rolled on to the house, and drew up before its doors.
Sybil looked out from the window, and saw Miss Tabitha Winterose at the
head of all the house servants, standing on the porch to welcome her.
Among them was her little Skye terrier, held in check by Joseph. But as
soon as Nelly saw her mistress' face she broke loose, and with almost
human cries of frantic delight and impatience, scampered forward, and
climbed into Sybil's down-stretched arms.
"The first to welcome me home, you faithful little friend! But how did
you come here, Nelly?" asked Sybil, taking the little creature on her
lap, holding its head between her open hands, and looking down into its
loving brown eyes.
But for all answer Nelly suddenly darted up and kissed her mistress on
the chin.
"Welcome home, Miss Sybil! Oh, Lord be thanked as I have lived to see
this blessed day!" blubbered Joe, coming forward, and laughing and
sobbing with delight under the full conviction that all his mistress'
sorrows were now over.
"Welcome back, Mrs. Berners, my dear child! a thousand welcomes back!"
whimpered Miss Tabby, pressing forward to meet her.
"And me too, Miss Sybil," added Dilly, rather irrelevantly.
"Now, Lord, let thy servant depart, for I have seen the desire of my
eyes," said old Abraham, reverently lifting his hat from his white head,
and slightly misquoting the Scriptures.
Sybil had by this time alighted, and was shaking hands right and left
with her attached servants.
But now a touching sight met her view--a little delicate baby boy, with
fair curling hair, clear blue eyes, and a pink and white complexion,
hiding behind Miss Tabby, clinging to her skirts, and peeping out with a
look half shy and half confiding.
"Oh, you poor child!" said Sybil, tenderly raising him in her arms and
pressing him to her bosom, while her tears fell fast upon his head.
"You poor, poor child! If I had done what they said, could I ever have
looked in your sweet eyes again?"
"Don't cry, poor lady, don't cry," said the child, lifting up his little
apron and trying to wipe her eyes.
"Ah, you poor baby! But you shall never want a mother while I live,"
continued Sybil, still weeping for pity.
"Don't cry, Cro' will be a good, _good_ boy," coaxed the child; softly
stroking her face with his little hand.
"Cro' will give you his mudic box, and all his p'ay things. Don't cry,"
begged the child, and as a last resort, he put his arms around her neck,
and added, "Cro' will love you."
"Come, my dear Sybil! come into the house," said Mr. Berners, who,
having paid and discharged the hired carriage, now turned to offer his
arm to his wife.
But Sybil covered the child in her arms with kisses, and pressed him
warmly to her bosom, before she relinquished him to the care of Miss
Tabby.
Then she turned to her husband, who still held out his arm to her.
"Poor Lyon!" she said. "You are scarcely able to stand, yet you wish to
escort me in. Joseph!"--she called to their faithful servant--"come
here. Don't you see your master's state?"
Joe came and looked upon his "sovereign lord," and his eyes and mouth
gradually opened in a growing consternation, as he gazed upon the
bandaged head.
"Lor save us, marse Lyon; has you been blowed up agin, or has you got
you'sef inter a--" Joe paused in respect.
"Row, would you say, Joe? Something like it, I must confess; and a very
disreputable appearance I present, no doubt! But there, Joe, I will take
your arm into the house, for I do feel rather light-headed still," said
Lyon, with a smile, as leaning on his servant, he went up the porch
stairs. Sybil followed, attended by Raphael, Miss Tabby and little
Cromartie, Delia, and all the servants.
"Come up into your own room, my darling Miss Sybil, Mrs. Berners I mean,
which it is all well aired, and nice and warm and ready for you," said
Miss Tabby, leading the way up-stairs, followed by Sybil and her maid
Delia.
"Oh, how good it is to be home once more! Oh, how delightful to enter
one's own bed-room again," sighed Sybil, with the sense of a great
relief, as she sank into her own luxurious easy-chair, beside the bright
wood fire.
"Let me take off your bonnet, my pet," said the affectionate old maid,
untying with trembling fingers the hat of Sybil.
"Miss Tabby, how came little Nelly here?" inquired Mrs. Berners, as the
little dog, who had followed her up stairs, jumped into her lap.
"Why, lors, Miss Sybil, the groom from the livery-stable who brought the
news of your coming, fotch the dog too. I b'lieve he said as Capting
Pendleton found him running round loose, and sent him home."
"Oh, Miss Tabby, sometime when you and I are sitting by our winter
evening fire, I can tell you such stories of what I have gone through,
and the best story of all is that of little Nelly," said Sybil caressing
her tiny four-footed favorite.
"Surely!" exclaimed Miss Tabby, who, having relieved Sybil of her bonnet
and shawl, now sat down for a quiet little talk, while waiting for
dinner to be announced. She had little Cro' on her lap.
"Miss Tabby," inquired Sybil, suddenly, "where is that child's nurse? I
notice that you seem to have him all the time."
"Where is his nurse, is it Miss Sybil? Ah, the brazen, piece! She's gone
and got married to Saundy McGruder the livery-stable keeper--master of
him who brought the news of your 'rival! _Ugh!_" exclaimed Miss Tabby
in strong disgust. _She_ had never taken upon herself to get married,
and she set her face steadily against all such improprieties in the
young servants that were under her control.
"And so she deserted her charge? Poor baby! Hard to lose his mother and
his nurse at the same time," said Sybil, compassionately. Suddenly she
changed the subject, and inquired:
"Miss Tabby! did _you_ ever believe I did that?"
"Did which, honey?"
"What they accused me of?"
"Now I wish you hadn't axed me that there question, Miss Sybil! I do so!
for it looks just as if you had a doubt on me, as never doubted you,"
exclaimed the faithful creature, with an injured look.
"Heaven bless you, good soul! Then you _don't_ believe it!" cried Sybil,
in delight.
"Now look here, honey! I've nursed you ever since you was a month old,
and how _could_ I believe you would do a thing like that! Though the
good Lord knows as you had aggravation enough to drive you out'n your
seventeen senses, and into anything! But you never did that! I'd stake
my soul on to it. Why, see here! When that ignorant nigger, Dilly, as
was a crying and a howling after you, fit to break her heart, when she
axes me, 'Oh, Miss Tabby, do you think as my mistress _did that_?' I
fetches her sich a box of the years, as I shouldn't wonder if they ring
yet, though that was a matter of nigh two months ago!"
"Thanks, dear old friend, for your faith in me. And now, dear Miss
Tabby, did you notice that fair boy whom we brought home with us?"
"I never see such a heavenly looking boy in all my days. To be sure I
noticed of him. Wherever did you pick him up, Miss Sybil?"
"On my travels, old Tabby. I will tell you all I know about him, when
you and I sit down together to gossip by that winter evening fire we
spoke of."
"And, oh, how much you'll have to tell me, my child. I looks to have my
hair bristle up on ind!"
"Then wear a strong cap, and tie the strings under your chin tightly,
that it may not be lifted from your head," laughed Sybil. "But about the
boy; he is to make his home with us; and so I want you to have one of
the best bedrooms prepared, and a plate always put on the table for him;
and to instruct the servants that they are to treat him in all respects
as a son of the house," answered Sybil.
"Lor' bless me! Is that so!" exclaimed the old maid, as her eyes opened
in amazement. "Well, Miss Sybil, I have heard of ladies afore now, being
so angelable as to pervide for their husband's unnateral relations; but
that you should do sich a thing I never would a believed. You're a wery
good child! but your goodness don't lay into that toleratin' line, that
I know."
"What on earth do you mean, Tabby?" sharply demanded Sybil. "I'm shocked
and disgusted at you, that I am."
"Why, what for? You said the boy was to be respected as a son of the
house; and then ag'in, they've both got light hair and blue eyes, and
fair skins," said Miss Winterose, in dismay.
"Tabby, as far as I understand you, I am quite ashamed of you. That boy
is the son of a man who calls himself Captain Inconnu, but whom I
believe to own another name; but no matter about that now; that will
figure in some of the stories that I shall tell you by our evening
fires--Well, what do you want?"
This last question was addressed to a colored boy, who opened the
chamber door and looked in.
"Please, ma'am, I wanted to tell Miss Tabby as dinner was on the table,"
said the child.
"And didn't you know better, you little brute, than to open a lady's
door without knocking? Go down to the kitchen with yourself, this very
instant!" exclaimed Miss Tabby, indignantly.
"Don't scold the child this first day of my return," pleaded Sybil.
"And, lor', now here I have been a keeping on you, child, a-satisfyin'
of my old woman's curiosity, and not even a leaving of you time enough
to dress for dinner," said the old maid, regretfully.
"Dress for dinner!" echoed Sybil, lifting her eye-brows. "I had almost
forgotten such a piece of propriety! I have not dressed for dinner for
nearly two months!"
But for all that, she got up, and went to her toilet glass and smoothed
her hair, and washed her hands, and put on a clean collar.
"That will do for to-day. Now don't look hurt, you good old Tabby, and
I'll promise to-morrow to 'dress up to the nines!'" said Sybil,
laughing, as she tripped out of the room. She was in such good spirits
at being home again, she had for the moment forgotten that she was only
there on sufferance.
"And I had such a splendid dinner got for her, too! With all the
silver-gilt and cut-glass out, and some of the old wine them devils
happened to leave when they robbed the cellar. I haven't told her about
that robbery yet! I don't want to tell her no bad news the first day as
she gets home," ruminated Miss Tabby, as she sat over the fire with
little Cromartie in her arms.
Of course Miss Winterose could not guess that Sybil had heard of the
raid upon her cellars.
Sybil ran down stairs, at the foot of which she found Mr. Berners and
Raphael waiting for her.
"I have been taking a nap on the parlor sofa, and my young friend here
has been mousing among the books in the library," said Lyon Berners, as
he met his wife.
"I hope you feel refreshed," said Sybil.
"Very much," answered Lyon. "Raphael, my boy, give Mrs. Berners your arm
in to the dinner-table."
The lad blushingly obeyed, and they went in to dinner.
There was one little affectionate mischievous thought darted through Mr.
Berners' brain; "I will show my wife that I can trust her with this
pretty page who is in love with her, better than she could trust me with
the beautiful widow who was not in love with me," he said smilingly to
himself, as he followed them in to the dining-room.
This may be said to be the re-commencement of Sybil Berners' happy
home-life. Of the awful cloud that overhung her fate, she scarcely
thought at all this evening. When dinner was over she led the way into
her own bright drawing-room, which had been that day "swept and
garnished" for her reception. Fresh snow-white lace curtains were at the
windows, contrasting finely with the warm, bright hues of the crimson
satin hangings, the crimson velvet parlor set, and the crimson Brussels
carpet. A brilliant sea-coal fire was glowing in the grate, and vases
filled with fragrant hot-house plants stood on every white marble-top
table and stand.
Like a child home for the holidays, Sybil roamed about in delight from
object to object, and fondly opened her disused piano, to try if it
was still in tune. She was surprised and pleased to find that its tone
was perfect. She had been absent but two months or less, and she knew
it, yet she felt as if two years must have elapsed since she had touched
her piano. She sat down and played some of her favorite airs, and sang
some of her favorite songs, to the great entertainment of Mr. Berners
and Raphael.
But this evening she was too happy and too restless to keep to any one
thing. So she soon left the piano, and called Raphael to follow her to a
book-stand in the corner, where she showed him some fine engravings from
the old masters--a volume containing master-pieces from Guido,
Correggio, Leonardo, Murillo, and others. With all this wealth of art
the poor child-artist was delighted.
"But here is something better still, my boy! Here is a volume of the
rarest gems," she said, opening a book of Raphael's Madonnas and laying
it before him.
He uttered a cry of delight, and then checked himself, blushed, and
apologized.
Meanwhile Lyon Berners reclined upon the sofa. He was still weak from
his accident, and from the imprudent journey that had followed it. He
lay there, watching Sybil, content that she should be amused, until the
wife herself suddenly lifted up the volume she had been examining with
the boy, and calling Raphael to follow her, went over to her husband,
and kneeling by his side, with the book resting on the edge of the sofa,
she turned a page, and said:
"Look here, dear Lyon! I want you to notice this amazing resemblance,"
and she pointed first to an engraved head of the artist Raphael
occupying the centre of the title-page, and then to the living head of
the boy Raphael bending by her side.
"It is a likeness," said Lyon.
"Likeness! It is a portrait! If I had known this boy before, and had
seen this picture anywhere else, I should have supposed it had been
taken for him," said Sybil, earnestly.
Lyon closed the book, and asked her to play and sing a certain beautiful
evening hymn which was a great favorite with them, after which he
suggested they should retire.
So passed the first evening of Sybil's recovered home.
The next morning, after she had breakfasted, she took another
school-girl's holiday frolic. She ran all over the house, renewing her
acquaintance with every room.
She had scarcely finished her pleasant tour, when old Joe came after
her to say that Marster Sheridan, from Blackville had called to see her.
Her counsel!
The announcement of this visitor awoke Sybil from her pleasant dream of
home and safety.
With trembling hands she arranged her dress, and went below to the
parlor, where she found Mr. Berners entertaining the lawyer.
Both arose at her entrance, and Mr. Sheridan shook hands with her,
saying:
"I do not know a better place to get up my brief for the defence, Mrs.
Berners, than here on the scene of the tragedy and the imputed crime."
The tone and manner of the lawyer were very cheerful, and at once
restored Sybil's composure.
"I have heard your explanation of the circumstances that led you to the
bed-side of Rosa Blondelle, at the moment in which her murderer had left
her, but I heard it at second hand. I would now hear it from yourself,"
said Mr. Sheridan.
Sybil began and related the whole story, which the lawyer took down from
her lips.
"Now," he said, "Mr. Berners, I would have your statement, commencing
from the moment the deceased rushed into the library."
Lyon Berners related the circumstances attending Rosa Blondelle's death,
as far as he knew them.
"And now I would like to minutely examine the room in which the crime
was committed," said Mr. Sheridan.
"Come, then," answered Lyon Berners. And he led the lawyer to the rooms
lately occupied by Rosa Blondelle.
"A man might easily have escaped by these windows an instant after
having committed the crime. They close with a spring catch. The fact of
their having been found fastened when the room was examined, proves
nothing whatever against my client. The murderer could in an instant
unfasten one of them from within, jump through, and clap it to behind
him, when it would be as fast as if secured by a careful servant
within," said the lawyer, after the examination was complete.
Then they all returned to the library, where Mr. Sheridan summed up his
brief for the defence.
"Give yourself no uneasiness, Mrs. Berners," he said. "Your case lies in
a nut-shell. It is based upon your own explanation of your attitude at
the bed-side of the victim, and upon the fact, which I shall undertake
to prove, that the assassin had escaped from the window at the foot of
the bed."
The lawyer spoke so cheerfully that Sybil's spirits rose again.
He then, as a precautionary measure, he said, to give them the help of
the greatest bulwarks of the bar, advised that they should write to
Washington to engage the services of the celebrated Ishmael Worth, who,
in a case like this, would apply in the regular way to be admitted to
plead.
Mr. Berners accepted this advice, and said that he would lose no time in
following it.
Then the lawyer took his leave.
He had scarcely got out of sight before Captain Pendleton and his sister
Beatrix drove up to the door.
"I have come to stay with you as long as you will let me, my darling,"
said Beatrix, as Sybil hastened to welcome her.
"Then you will stay with me forever, or until you are happily married,
dearest," answered Sybil, hospitably, as she led her friend up to a
bedroom to lay off her bonnet.
Captain Pendleton, meantime, was taken care of by Mr. Berners.
"Clement!" said the latter, when he had taken his guest to his
dressing-room, "we are old, tried friends, and need not fear to speak
the truth to each other. Tell me now, frankly, has not the action of the
judge, in admitting Sybil to bail, been very much censured? Will it not
injure him and affect his position, even to the risk of impeachment?"
"Oh, no! There is a great deal of talk, to be sure. Malcontents complain
that he has exceeded his prerogative, that he has overstepped the law,
that he has tried to establish a dangerous precedent, and so on, and so
on."
"And what does Judge Ruthven say to all this?"
"Nothing, nothing whatever! Do you suppose for an instant he is going to
condescend to defend himself to such asses? He says nothing."
"But his friends! his friends! surely _they_ defend him?"
"They do. They tell the donkeys that a judge has certain discretionary
powers to modify the severity of the law when justice requires it; that
these modifications become precedents for other judges to follow, and
finally they become laws that none may dispute; that in this case Judge
Ruthven has followed the spirit of the law, if not its letter; that he
based his act upon the fact that the accused lady, being perfectly safe
from the officers of the law at the time, voluntarily came forward,
delivered herself up, and challenged a trial; and that therefore she was
a worthy object of the privilege of bail."
Honest Clement Pendleton was no lawyer, and he had spoken a trifle
unprofessionally; but it was no matter. Lyon Berners understood him, and
was satisfied.
Sybil and Beatrix came down to join them; and then they all adjourned to
the dining-room, where they had luncheon.
Then Captain Pendleton went home, leaving Beatrix with Sybil.
A few days after this the Court adjourned, and Sybil knew that she
would not be brought to trial until the spring term. In that long
interval, what discoveries might not be made to save her? Her hopes rose
high.
"But oh!" she thought, with a shudder, "if these months had to be passed
in prison!" And in the depths of her grateful heart she again thanked
Providence and Judge Ruthven for her restoration to home and friends.
Then Christmas came. Under the circumstances they preferred to spend it
very quietly. Beatrix was still with them, and Clement was invited to
come and dine on Christmas-day.
Sybil took great delight in delighting. And if good taste forbade her
now to indulge in the lavish hospitality and gay festivity that had
always been customary in Black Hall at this season, she determined to
indemnify herself by making unusually handsome presents to her servants
and dependants, as well as the most liberal donations to the poor--and
so to be happy in the happiness she should bestow.
With this intention she put a small fortune in her longest purse, and
went in her roomiest carriage to Blackville, intending to empty the
purse and fill the carriage before her return.
The day being Christmas eve, the village was full of people, come there
to shop for the holidays, and poor Sybil was brought to a sense of her
condition by the treatment she received--silence, rude stares, or
injurious whispers greeted her as she passed. But they were only pin
thrusts, which she soon forgot in the interesting errand upon which she
had come.
She loaded her carriage with bundles, boxes, and baskets, and returned
home in time to separate the treasures, and write upon each one of them
the name of the person for whom it was intended.
The next morning Captain Pendleton arrived early, to assist in the
distribution of the presents. No one was neglected; every body was made
happy with several valuable gifts.
Little Cro' went to paradise in the corner of the room, with his cap
full of toys.
That day also Sybil's dependents enjoyed as good a dinner as was set for
herself and her friends. So, after all, in spite of fate, they kept
their "Christmas, merry still."
When it was generally known that Sybil Berners had returned to Black
Hall, there was much discussion among the ladies as to whether they
should call on her.
Some declared that she was a murderess, whose face they never could bear
to look on, and therefore of course they never would go near her.
Others, who said that they believed her guiltless and wished her well,
added, that they felt the same delicacy in going or in staying away--as
in the first case Mrs. Berners might consider their call an intrusion
from motives of curiosity, and in the second case she might construe
their absence into intentional neglect. And between these two extremes
there was every shade of opinion as to Sybil's culpability, and every
sort of reason for not going to see her just yet.
And so it followed that Sybil passed a whole, good, peaceful fortnight
in the company of her husband, her three devoted friends, her faithful
servants, and her little pets.
But at length, early in January, sympathy on the one hand and curiosity
on the other prevailed over every feeling and reason, and Sybil's
neighbors, both detractors and defenders, began to call on her.
But Mrs. Berners had penetration enough to know her friends from her
foes, and so she felt no hesitation and made no mistakes when she
welcomed the visits of the first and declined those of the last
mentioned.
So the winter slipped away peacefully enough, and Sybil seldom
remembered what her friends tried to make her forget--the heavy cloud
that still hung over her fate.
She was reminded of it only when her counsel came to consult with her;
but then they always wore cheerful countenances, and spoke hopeful words
that inspired her with confidence and courage.
Sometimes indeed, the recollection of the awful crisis that could not be
shunned, that must be met, would come to her in the middle watches of
the night, and fill her soul with horror; but with the first beams of
the morning sun, this darkness of her spirit, like the darkness of the
hour, would pass away.
It was in all the reviving life and budding beauty of early spring, that
the Criminal Court resumed its sittings at Blackville.
The case of Sybil Berners, charged with the murder of Rosa Blondelle,
was the very first upon the docket.
It was a day as bright, beautiful, and glorious as any day that ever
dawned, when the summons came that called Mrs. Berners up to the court
to be put upon trial for her life.