HOW SYBIL RECEIVED HER DEATH WARRANT.
She looked on many a face with vacant eye,
On many a token without knowing what;
She saw them watch her without asking why,
And recked not who around her pillow sat.--BYRON.
The warden unlocked the door and entered the cell, followed by the
sheriff and Mr. Berners.
Sybil was dressed, but lying on the outside of her bed.
Beatrix was sitting beside her, engaged in some light needle-work.
"She is very feeble both in mind and body to-day," said Beatrix, in
answer to an inquiring look of Mr. Berners, as she arose to give him her
seat by the bedside.
"How are you this morning, love?" inquired Mr. Berners, tenderly taking
her hand.
"Oh! I am better! Shall we go home to-morrow, Lyon?"
"If it please Providence, dear," answered her husband, putting a strong
constraint upon himself. But he saw that though she had asked the
question, she scarcely heard his answer; her attention had wandered from
the point, and she was idly pulling the curly-haired ears of her little
dog, who lay coiled up beside her.
Meanwhile Mr. Fortescue had shaken hands with Miss Pendleton, and was
now saying:
"Beatrix, my child, you had better retire from this scene for a few
moments."
"Why?" inquired Beatrix, looking her old neighbor firmly in the face.
"Because I have a very painful duty to perform, which will be very
distressing to you to witness."
"What is it?" inquired Miss Pendleton, without removing her eyes from
his face.
The sheriff stooped and told her in a whisper.
She turned pale as death, caught her breath, and leaned for an instant
on the table near her. Then, with a supreme effort, she stood up and
said:
"You have known me from my childhood. Do you think me such a dastard as
to desert my friend in the hour of her utmost need? No, Mr. Fortescue; I
will stand by Sybil to the last. So do your duty! Thank Heaven, you
cannot hurt her much!"
"Thank Heaven indeed, if that is so, Beatrix," answered the sheriff, as
he made a sign to Mr. Berners, and approached the bed with the death
warrant in his hand.
"Sybil, darling," whispered her agonized husband, "here is Mr. Fortescue
come to see you."
"Has he? that is kind," she answered, looking curiously at her own
fingers, and then forgetting the presence of her visitors.
"How are you, Mrs. Berners?" inquired the sheriff.
"I am better. I am going home to-morrow, and then you must come and--"
She broke off suddenly, and began to feel about with her fingers over
the white counterpane.
"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the sheriff, looking up into Mr. Berner's face.
Lyon Berners gravely bent his head.
The sheriff hesitated, as if uncertain how to proceed.
Mr. Berners came to his side and whispered:
"If you _must_ read that document to her, be merciful and read it _now_,
when her mind is dulled to its meaning."
The sheriff nodded, and then said:
"Mrs. Berners, I have something to read to you. Can you listen?"
"Yes. Is it interesting?" inquired Sybil, rousing herself.
Without answering that last question, the sheriff prepared to read the
awful instrument of doom. Lyon Berners sat down on the side of the bed,
and drew his wife's head upon his bosom.
Miss Pendleton sat pale and still as a statue.
The old warden stood with his eyes bent upon the floor.
Sybil roused herself to listen, and she heard the first few lines of
preamble addressed to the sheriff, but after that her attention wandered
beyond control; and at the conclusion, she slightly smiled, and turning
to her husband, said:
"Lyon, be sure to come early to-morrow. I want to go home in the cool of
the morning."
"Yes, dear, I shall be here very early," answered Mr. Berners as
steadily as he could speak, with his heart breaking.
Then laying her gently back on her pillow, he touched the sheriff on the
shoulder and beckoned him to follow to the window.
"You see," said Mr. Berners, as they stood side by side, looking out.
"I see. I am very much shocked. This should be looked into. A medical
examination should be made. Another appeal should be sent to the
governor. Has Mr. Worth returned to Washington?"
"No; he has been waiting the issue of the petition to the governor."
"Then I advise you to see and consult him without loss of time. Do it
now; this morning," urged the sheriff, as he took up his hat and gloves
to leave the cell.
He went to Sybil's bedside to take leave of her.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Berners," he said, holding out his hand.
"Good-morning, Mr. Fortescue. Thanks for your call. When you come
again--" she began smilingly, but lost the connection of her ideas, and
with a look of distress and perplexity she sent her fingers straying
over the counterpane, as if in search of something.
With a deep sigh the sheriff left the cell.
And at the same time Lyon Berners quietly kissed his wife, and withdrew.
Mr. Berners went at once to the hotel where Ishmael Worth lodged.
On inquiry at the office, he found that Mr. Worth was in his room.
Without waiting to send up his name first, he desired to be immediately
shown up to Mr. Worth's presence.
He found the young lawyer sitting at a table, deeply immersed in
documents. He was about to apologize for his unceremonious intrusion,
when Mr. Worth arose, and with grave courtesy and earnest sympathy,
informed his visitor that he had already heard, with deep sorrow, the
adverse decision of the governor.
Mr. Berners covered his face with his hand for a moment, and then sank
into the chair placed for him by Mr. Worth.
As soon as he had recovered himself, he entered upon the subject of his
visit--the insanity of Sybil, and the use that might be made of it in
gaining a respite that should prolong her life for some months, until
perhaps she might be permitted to die a natural death.
"Her state, as you represent it, gives me hopes of obtaining not only a
respite, but a full pardon," said Ishmael Worth, when Mr. Berners had
finished his account.
"I scarcely dared to hope as much as that," sighed Mr. Berners.
"I must speak now from the law's point of view. You and I believe that,
sane or insane, Mrs. Berners never committed that murder. But the jury
says she did. Now if she can be proved to be insane at this time, her
present insanity will 'argue a foregone conclusion;' namely, that she
was insane at the time she is said to have committed the crime; and if
insane, then she was therefore irresponsible for her action, and
unamenable to the laws. Let this be satisfactorily proved, and properly
set before the governor, and I have little doubt that the result will be
a full pardon."
"You give me hope, where I thought hope was impossible. If we can only
obtain this pardon, and get my dear wife out of her horrible position, I
will take her at once to some foreign country, where, far from all these
ghastly associations, she may live in peace, and possibly recover her
reason, and where she may have some little share of earthly happiness
even yet," sighed Lyon Berners.
"And if it can be shown that there has been insanity in her family, it
will make our argument much stronger. Has such ever been the case?"
earnestly inquired Ishmael Worth.
"Ah, no! unless the most violent passions roused at times to the most
ungovernable fury, and resulting in the most heinous deeds, can be
called insanity, there is none in her family," said Mr. Berners sadly,
shaking his head.
"That is also insanity certainly," said the philosophical Ishmael Worth,
"but scarcely of the sort that could be brought forward in her favor."
"Nor is it the type of her present mental malady, which is very, very
gentle."
"However, we have ground enough to go upon. Our case is very strong. We
must lose no time. The first step to be taken will be to procure an
order to have the lady examined by physicians competent to form a
judgment, and make a report upon her condition. Their report must go up
to the governor, with the petition for her pardon. And now, Mr. Berners,
if you will go home and seek the rest you need, and leave this business
in my hands, I will set about it immediately," said Ishmael Worth,
kindly.
"Thank you! I thank you from my soul! I will confidently leave her fate
in your hand. I know I could not leave it in any better under heaven!
But, tell me, when shall I see you again?"
"To-morrow morning, after your visit to the prison, you can call here if
you please, and I shall be able to report some progress," said Mr.
Worth, rising from his chair.
Lyon Berners then shook hands with him, and left the room.
Not to go home and rest, as he had been advised; there was no rest for
Sybil's husband; there could be none now; he went to wander around and
around her prison walls until the day declined and the sky darkened, and
then indeed he turned his steps homeward, walking all the way to Black
Hall, because in his mental excitement he could not sit still in
carriage or saddle. There he passed the night in sleeplessness and
horror. Imagination, favored by the darkness, the stillness, and the
loneliness of the scene, conjured up all the ghastly spectres of the
future, impending tragedies, and nearly drove him into frenzy. He
started up from his bed and walked out into the summer night under the
shining stars, and wandered up and down the wooded banks of the river
until morning.
Then he returned to the house, and after a hasty breakfast, which for
him consisted only of a cup of very strong coffee, he set out for
Blackville.
He reached the prison before its doors were open to visitors, and he
waited until he could be admitted. He found Sybil placid, peaceful, and
unconscious of imprisonment and deadly peril of her life, as she had
ever been. He spent an hour with her, and then he went to the hotel to
see Mr. Worth.
He found the young lawyer in good spirits.
"I have made much progress, Mr. Berners. I succeeded in procuring the
order for the medical examination. It is appointed for to-morrow at ten
o'clock. Dr. Bright, Dr. Hart, and Dr. Wiseman are the physicians
authorized to make it. They have all been notified, and are to meet at
the prison at the hour specified," said Ishmael Worth, as he shook hands
with his visitor and offered him a chair.
Lyon Berners warmly expressed his thanks, and sank into the seat.
"You look very ill, Mr. Berners; you look as if you had not slept for
many nights. That will not do. Let me be your physician for once, as
well as your lawyer. Let me advise you to take opium at night. You
_must_ sleep, you see."
"Thanks; but I think my malady beyond the help of medicine, Mr. Worth,
unless it were something that should send me into the eternal sleep,"
said Lyon Berners, mournfully.
"Come, come; take courage! We have every reason to believe that this
medical examination will result in such a report as, sent up to the
governor with the new petition, will insure her release. And then you
will carry out your purpose of going with her to some foreign country.
Gay France, beautiful Italy, classic Greece, good old England, are all
before you where to choose," said Ishmael Worth, cheerfully.
Then they spoke of the three physicians who were to conduct the
examination: Dr. Bright, who had once had charge of the State Insane
Asylum, but who had recently retired to his plantation in this
neighborhood; Dr. Hart, who was the oldest and most skilful practitioner
in the county, having attended more families, and first introduced more
children to their friends and relations, than any other man in the
place; and lastly, Dr. Wiseman, the village druggist, who had taken his
degree, and was also physician to the county prison.
"Dr. Hart has attended Sybil's family for nearly half a century; he has
known Sybil from her earliest infancy; his visit will not alarm her,
though, for that matter, nothing alarms her now, not even--" He did not
finish the sentence; he could not bear to utter the words that would
have completed it.
Soon after he arose and took his leave. And he passed the day and night
as he had passed the last and many previous days and nights.