SYBIL'S FLIGHT.
'Tis well--my soul shakes off its load of care;
'Tis only the obscure is terrible;
Imagination frames events unknown,
In wild, fantastic shapes of hideous ruin,
And what its fears creates.--HANNAH MORE.
Upon the snow-white bed the form of Rosa Blondelle, wrapped in pure
white raiment, was laid out. Very peaceful and beautiful she looked, her
fair face, framed in its pale gold hair, wearing no sign of the violent
death by which she died.
At her head sat Sybil, looking very pale, and shedding silent tears.
At her feet sat Miss Tabby, whimpering and muttering.
Within the little nursery, beyond the chamber, the Scotch girl sat,
crying and sobbing.
Lyon Berners softly approached the bed, and whispered to Sybil.
"Dearest, come out, I wish to speak to you."
She silently arose and followed him. He was silent until they had
reached their own room.
"Sit down, Sybil," he then said, as calmly as he could force himself to
speak.
She sank into a seat and looked at him inquiringly, but fearlessly.
He stood before her unable to proceed. It was terrible to him to witness
her utter unconsciousness of her own position--more terrible still to be
obliged to arouse her from it.
She continued to regard him with curiosity, but without anxiety, waiting
silently for what he should say to her.
"Sybil," he said at length, as soon as he was able to speak--"Sybil, you
are a brave and strong spirit! You can meet a sudden calamity without
sinking under it."
"What is it?" inquired his wife, in a low tone.
"Sybil, dearest Sybil! there is no time to break the bad news to you;
brace yourself to hear it abruptly."
"Yes! tell me."
"Sybil, listen, and comprehend. The circumstances that surround this
mysterious murder are of a character to compromise you so seriously,
that you may only find safety in immediate flight."
"Me!--flight!" exclaimed Mrs. Berners, dilating her dark eyes in
amazement.
Mr. Berners groaned in the spirit, as he replied:
"Yes, Sybil, yes! Oh! my dearest, attend and understand, and be strong!
Sybil, hear. The quarrel you were known to have had with this poor
woman; the threats you used on that occasion; the dagger in your hand;
the blood oh your wrist, and above all the words of the dying woman
charging you with her death. All these form a chain of circumstantial
and even direct evidence that will drag you down--I cannot say it!"
burst forth Lyon in an accession of agony.
Sybil's dark eyes opened wider and wider in amazement, but still without
the least alarm.
"It is enough, oh, Sybil, to repeat to you that your only safety is in
instant flight," he exclaimed, dropping his face upon his hands.
"Flight!" echoed Sybil, staring at him. "Why should I take refuge in
flight? I have done nothing criminal, nor will I do anything so
ignominious as to fly from my home, Lyon," she added, proudly.
"But, Sybil--Oh, Sybil! the circumstantial evidence--."
"Why, I explained all that!" replied Mrs. Berners naively. "I told you
all how it was: that when I heard her scream, I ran to see what was the
matter and I drew the dagger from her bosom, and then the blood spirted
up and sprinkled me! It was terrible enough to see and bear that,
without having to hear and endure such a preposterous suspicion! And it
is all easy enough for any honest mind to understand my explanation."
"Oh, Sybil! Sybil! that indeed--I mean your presence at her death, with
all its concurrent circumstances might be explained away! But the dying
woman's last solemn declaration, charging you as her murderess, that was
the most direct testimony! Oh, Heaven, Sybil! Sybil! prepare for your
flight; for in that is your only hope of safety! Prepare at once, for
there is not an instant to be lost!"
"Stop!" said Sybil, suddenly and solemnly--"Lyon Berners, do _you_
believe that dying declaration to have been true?"
"No! as the Lord hears me, I do not, Sybil! I know you were incapable
of doing the deed she charged upon you! No! I am sure she spoke in the
delirium of sudden death and terror," said Lyon Berners earnestly.
"Nor will any one else who knows me, believe it! So be tranquil. I am
not guilty, nor will I run away like a guilty one. I will stay here and
tell the truth," said Sybil composedly.
"But, oh, good Heavens! telling the truth will not help you! The law
deals with _facts_, not _truths_! and judges of facts as if they were
truths. And oh! my dear Sybil! the lying facts of this case involve you
in such a net of circumstantial evidence and direct testimony as renders
you liable to arrest--nay, certain to be arrested and imprisoned upon
the charge of murder! Oh, my dear, most innocent wife! my free, wild,
high-spirited Sybil! even the sense of innocence could not save you from
imprisonment, or support you during its degrading tortures! _You_ could
not bear--_I_ could not bear for you, such loss of liberty and honor for
one hour--even if nothing worse should follow! But, Sybil, worse may,
worse _must_ follow! Yes, the _very worst_! Your only safety is in
flight--instant flight! And oh! Heaven! how the time is speeding away!"
exclaimed the husband, beside himself with distress.
During the latter part of his speech the wife had started to her feet,
and now she stood staring at him, amazed, incredulous, yet firm and
brave.
"Rouse yourself to the occasion, Sybil! Oh! for my sake, for Heaven's
sake, collect your faculties and prepare for flight," he passionately
urged.
"I am innocent, and yet I must fly like the guilty! Lyon, for your sake,
and only for yours, I will do it," she answered gravely, and sadly.
"We must not call assistance, nor stop to compliment each other. Pack
quickly up what you will most need for yourself, in a travelling bag,
and I will do the same for myself," explained Lyon Berners, suiting the
action to the word by shoving into his valise some valuable papers,
money, razors, a few articles of clothing, etc.
Sybil showed more promptitude and presence of mind than might have been
expected of her. She quickly collected her costly jewels and ready
money, a change of under clothing, combs, and brushes, and packed them
in a small travelling bag.
"We go on horseback," quickly explained Lyon Berners, as he locked his
valise.
Swiftly and silently Sybil threw off her masquerading dress, that she
had unconsciously worn until now, and dropped it on the floor, where it
lay glowing like a smouldering bonfire. She then put on a water-proof
riding habit, and announced herself ready.
"Come, then," said Lyon Berners, taking up both bags, and beckoning her
to follow him silently.
They slipped down the dark stairs and through the deserted halls, and
reached the back door, where, under the shelter of a large hemlock-tree,
Captain Pendleton held the horses. It was dark as pitch, and drizzling
rain. They could see nothing, they could only know the whereabouts of
their "friend in need," and their horses, by hearing Captain Pendleton's
voice speaking through the mist in cautious tones, and whispering:
"Lock the door after you, Berners, so as to secure us from intrusion
from within. And then stop there under the porch until I come and talk
to you."
Mr. Berners did as he was requested to do, and then stood waiting for
his friend, who soon came up.
"You have got all you will need on your journey, have you not?" inquired
the Captain.
Mr. Berners replied by telling his friend exactly what he had brought.
"All that is very well, but people require to eat and drink once in a
while. So I have put some sandwiches, and a bottle of wine from the
supper-table, into your saddle-bags. And now, in the hurry, have you
decided upon your route?"
"Yes; we shall endeavor to reach the nearest seaport, Norfolk probably,
and embark for some foreign country, no matter what, for in no place but
in a foreign country can my unhappy wife hope for safety," mournfully
replied Lyon Berners.
"Endeavor to reach Norfolk! That will never succeed. You will be sure to
be overtaken and brought back before you go a score of miles on that
road," declared Captain Pendleton, shaking his head.
"Then, in the name of Heaven, what _will_ do?" demanded Mr. Berners, in
a tone of desperation.
"You must find a place of concealment, and then take time to disguise
yourself and your wife, so that neither of you can be recognized, before
you venture upon the road to Norfolk. You see, Lyon, you are the better
lawyer, but I am the better strategist! I graduated among the warpaths
and the ambushes of the Redskins on the frontier."
"But where shall I find such a place of concealment?"
"I have thought of that."
"You think of everything."
"Ah! it is easy to show presence of mind in other people's confusion!
Almost as easy at it is to bear other people's troubles!" said the
Captain, attempting a jest, only to raise his friend's drooping spirits.
"But now to the point, for we must be quick. You know the 'Haunted
Chapel?'"
"The old ruined church in the cleft on the other side of the Black
Mountain?"
"Yes; that is the place. Its deep solitude and total abandonment, with
its ghostly reputation, will be sure to secure your safety. Go there;
conceal yourselves and your horses as well as you can. In the course of
to-morrow, or to-morrow night, I will come to you with such news and
such help as I may be able to bring."
"Thank you. Oh, thank you. But what are words? You are a man of deeds.
Your presence of mind has saved us both!" said Lyon Berners earnestly.
"And now to horse," said Captain Pendleton, taking Mrs. Berners under
his guidance, while Mr. Berners brought on the valise and travelling
bag.
Captain Pendleton placed Sybil in her saddle, whispering encouragingly,
"Be strong and hopeful. This necessary flight is a temporary evil,
intended to save you from a permanent, and even perhaps a fatal wrong.
Be patient, and time shall vindicate you and bring you back."
"But oh! to leave my home, and the home of my fathers! to leave it like
a criminal, when I am innocent! to leave it in haste, and not to know if
I may ever return," cried Sybil, in a voice of anguish.
"It is a fearful trial. I will not mock you by denying that it is. Yes,
it is a terrible ordeal! but one, Mrs. Berners, that you have heroism
enough to bear," replied Captain Pendleton, as he bowed over her
extended hand and gave her the reins.
Lyon Berners was also mounted. They were ready to start. With a mutual
"God bless you," the friends parted.
Lyon and Sybil took the dark road.
Captain Pendleton unlocked the door that had been locked by Mr. Berners,
but as he pushed to open it he felt an obstruction, and instantly
afterwards heard some one run away.
"A listener," he thought, in dismay as he pursued the fugitive. But he
only caught a glimpse of a figure disappearing through the front door
and into the darkness without, in which it was lost.
"An eavesdropper!" he exclaimed, in despair. "An eavesdropper! Who now
can be assured of her safety? Oh, Sybil! you rejected my hand, and very
nearly ruined my life. But this night I would die to save you," he
sighed, as he went and joined the gentlemen who were sitting up
watching, or rather dozing, in the parlor, while waiting for the
physician's or the coroner's arrival.
"Where is Mrs. Berners?" inquired the old Judge, rousing himself up.
"She retired to her chamber about an hour ago," answered Captain
Pendleton, telling the truth, but not the whole truth, as you will
perceive.
"Hum, ha, yes; well, and where is her husband?"
"He followed her there," answered the Captain, shortly.
"Ha, hum, yes, well. The coroner is long in coming," grumbled the Judge.
"It is some distance to Blackville, sir, and the roads are rough and the
night is dark," observed the Captain.
"Well, yes, true," agreed the old man, subsiding into his chair and into
his doze.
Captain Pendleton threw himself into a seat, but had not sat long before
the parlor door opened, and his sister appeared at it and called to him
in a low voice.
He arose, and went to her.
"Come out into the hall here; I want to speak to you, Clement," said
Miss Pendleton.
He went out.
Then his sister inquired, in a voice full of anxious entreaty:
"Clement, _where_ is Sybil?"
"She went to her room a little more than an hour ago," answered the
brother, giving his sister the same answer that he had given the Judge.
"Clement, I must go to her, and throw my arms around her neck and kiss
her. I must not tell her in so many words that I know she is innocent,
for to do that would be to affront her almost as much as if I should
accuse her of being guilty; for she will rightly enough think that her
innocence should not be called into question, but should be taken for
granted. So I must not say a word on that subject, but I _must_ find her
and embrace her, and make her feel that I know she is innocent. Who is
with her?"
"Her husband is with her, Beatrix, and so you can not of course go to
her now."
"Oh, but I am so anxious to do so. Look here, Clement. I stood there
among the crowd this evening, gazing upon that bleeding and dying woman,
until the sight of her ghastly form and face seemed to affect me as the
Medusa's head was said to have affected the beholder, and turn me into
stone. Clement, I was so petrified that I could not move or speak, even
when she appealed to us all to know whether any among us could believe
her to be capable of such an act. I could not speak; I could not move.
She must have thought that I too condemned her, and I cannot bear to
rest under that suspicion of hers. I must go to her now, Clement."
"Indeed you must not, Trix. Wait till she makes her appearance: that
will be time enough," answered her brother.
"Oh, this is a horrible night; I wish it were over. I cannot go to bed;
nobody can. The ladies are all sitting huddled together in the
dressing-room, although the fire has gone out; and the servants are all
gathered in the kitchen, too panic-stricken to do anything. Oh, an awful
night! I wish it were morning."
"It will soon be daylight now, dear Beatrix. You had better go and
rejoin your companions."
And so the brother and sister separated for the night; Beatrix going to
sit and shudder with the other ladies in the dressing-room, and Clement
returning to the parlor to lounge and doze among the gentlemen.
Only his anxiety for Sybil's safety so much disturbed his repose, that
if he did but drop into an instant's slumber he started from it in a
vague fright. So the small hours of the morning wore on and brought the
dull, drizzly, wintry daylight.
Meanwhile Lyon and Sybil Berners rode on through mist and rain.