There, in the darkness and silence, she grew more composed, though not less happy. And in a few minutes after she had laid down, she fell asleep.
She slept very soundly until morning, when she was awakened by the cheerful chants of the sailors getting ready to make sail.
She lay a little while enjoying the joyous sounds thatspoke to her so happily of liberty, and then she arose and dressed herself, and went up on deck, leaving Lyon still asleep.
The sun was just rising, and the harbor was beautiful. She walked about, talking now to the captain, and now to one of the men, and exciting wonder among them all, at her happiness.
At length she was joined by her husband, who had waked up the moment she had left him, and got up immediately, and dressed and followed her.
“Oh, Lyon! is not this a beautiful morning? And the Captain says the wind is fair, and we shall sail in half an hour!” was her greeting.
And Lyon pressed her hand in silence. A great weight of anxiety lay upon his heart;heknew, if she did not, that she was not safe, even on shipboard, until the ship should really sail. And now his eyes were fixed upon a large rowboat that was rapidly crossing the water from the shore to the ship.
“Do you expect any more passengers?” he inquired of the Captain.
“Oh, lots!” answered the latter.
“Are those some of your passengers coming in the boat?”
The Captain threw a hasty glance at the approaching object and answered carelessly:
“Of course they are! Don’t you see they are making right for the ship?”
The boat was very near. It was at the side of the ship. The oars were drawn in. The passengers were climbing up to the deck.
“They look like nice people! I am sure they will make it still pleasanter for us on the voyage,” said Sybil, who in her happy mood was inclined to be delighted with every event.
The Captain went to meet the new-comers.
Two gentlemen of the party spoke for a moment with him, and then advanced towards the spot where the husband and wife were standing.
“Theyarenice people,” repeated Sybil, positively; but Lyon said nothing; he was pale as ashes. The two gentlemen came up and stood before Lyon and Sybil. The elder of the two took off his hat, and bowing gravely, said to Sybil:
“You are Mrs. Sybil Berners of Black Hall?”
Then all at once an agony of terror took possession of her; her heart sank, her brain reeled, her limbs tottered.
“You are Mrs. Sybil Berners of Black Hall?” repeated the stranger, drawing from his pocket a folded paper.
“Yes,” faltered Sybil, in a dying voice.
“Then, Madam, I have a most painful duty to perform. Sybil Berners, you are my prisoner,” he said, and he laid his hand upon her shoulder.
With an agonizing shriek she sprang from under his hand, and threw herself into the arms of her husband, wildly crying:
“Save me, Lyon! Oh! don’t let them force me away! Save me, my husband! Save me!”
CHAPTER XXXI.THE ARREST.
Had it pleased HeavenTo try me with affliction; had He rainedAll kinds of sores and shames on my bare head;Steeped me in poverty to the very lips;I could have found in some part of my soulA drop of patience; but alas, to make meA fixed figure for the time of scornTo point his slow, unmoving finger at!—Shakespeare.
“Save me! Oh, save me!” she continued to cry, clinging wildly to her husband’s bosom. “Save me from this deep degradation! This degradation worse than death!”
And it is certain that if the immediate sacrifice of his own life could have saved her, Lyon Berners would have willingly died for Sybil; or even if the drowning of that law officer could have delivered her, he would have incontinently pitched the man overboard; but as neither of these violent-means could possibly have served her, he could only clasp her closer to his heart, and consider what was to be done.
At length he looked up at the sheriff’s officer, and said:
“I wish to have a word alone with my wife, if you will permit me.”
The man hesitated.
“You can do it with perfect safety. We cannot possibly escape from this ship, you know; and besides, you can keep us in sight,” he added.
Still the man hesitated, and at length inquired:
“Why do you wish to speak with her alone?”
“To try to soothe her spirits. I know it would be quite useless to tell you how entirely innocent this lady is of the heinous crime imputed to her; for even if you should believe her to be so, you would have to do your duty all the same.”
“Yes, certainly; and a most distressing duty,” put in the officer.
“This arrest has come upon her so suddenly, and when she is so utterly unprepared to meet it, that it has quite overcome her, as you see; but leave her alone with me for a few minutes, and I will try to calm her mind, and induce her to yield quietly to this necessity,” added Lyon.
“Well, sir, I am indeed very willing to do all in my power to make this sad affair as little distressing to the lady as possible,” answered the officer as he touched his companion on the shoulder, and they both walked off to some little distance.
As their retreating steps sounded upon the deck, Sybil raised her head from Lyon’s breast and looked around with an expression half-frightened, half-relieved, and murmured:
“They are gone! They are gone!”
Then clasping her husband suddenly around the neck, and gazing wildly into his eyes, she exclaimed:
“You can save me, Lyon, you can save me from this deep dishonor that no Berners ever suffered before! There is but one way, Lyon, and there is but one moment. You have a small penknife; but it is enough. Open it, and strike ithere, Lyon. One blow will be enough, if it is firmly struck! Here—Lyon! here, strike here!” And she placed her hand on her throat, under her ear, and gazed wildly, prayerfully in his face.
“Oh, Sybil!” he groaned, in an agony of despairing love.
“Quick! quick! Lyon! We have but this moment! Strike here now—now, this instant! Strike first, and then kiss me! kiss me as I die!”
“Sybil! Sybil, darling you wring my heart.”
“I am not afraid of death, Lyon; I am only afraid of shame. Kill me, to save me, Lyon! Be a Roman husband. Slay your wife, to save her from shame!” she cried, gazing on him with great bright dilated eyes, where the fires of frenzy, if not of insanity, blazed.
“My best beloved! my only beloved! there can be no shame where there is no sin. I will save you, Sybil; I swear it by all my hopes of Heaven! I do not yet see clearly how; but I will do it,” he said, solemnly, and pressing her again to his heart.
“Do it this way! do it this way!” she wildly entreated, never removing her frenzied eyes from his face.
“No, not that way, Sybil. But listen: there are safe means—sinless means that we may use for your deliverance. The journey back will be a long one, broken up by many stoppages at small hamlets and roadside inns. Escape from these will be comparatively easy. I have also about me, in money and notes, some five thousand dollars. With those I can purchase connivance or assistance. Besides, to farther our views, I shall offer our wagon and horses, which luckily were not sold, but remain at the livery-stable at Portsmouth—I shall offer them, I say, to the officer for his use, and try to persuade him to take us down to Blackville by that conveyance, which will be easier even for him, than by the public stage coach. Take courage, dear Sybil, and take patience; and above all, do not think of using any desperate means to escape this trouble. But trust in Divine Providence. And now, dear Sybil, we must not try the temper of these officers longer, especially as we have got to leave the ship before it sails.”
And so saying, Lyon Berners beckoned the bailiffs to approach.
“I hope the lady feels better,” said the elder one.
“She is more composed, and will go quietly,” answered Mr. Berners.
“Then the captain says we must be in a hurry. So if there is anything you wish to have removed, you had better attend to it at once,” said the man.
“I do not wish to leave the side of my wife for an instant; so if you would be so kind as to speak to the captain andask him to have our luggage removed from our state-room and put upon the boat, I should feel much obliged.”
Leaving his companion in charge of the prisoner, the senior officer went forward and gave his message. And the captain, with a seaman-like promptness, immediately executed the order.
Then Sybil’s hat and cloak were brought her from the cabin, and she put them on and suffered herself to be led by her husband, and helped down to the boat. The Sheriff’s officers followed, and when all were seated, the two boatmen laid to their oars, and the boat was rowed swiftly towards shore.
The husband and the wife sat side by side in the stern of the boat. His arm was wound around her waist, and her head was resting on his shoulder. No word was spoken between them in the presence of these strangers; but he was silently giving her all the support in his power, and she was really needing it all, for she was utterly overcome; not by the terrors of imprisonment or death, but by something infinitely worse, the horror of degradation.
All this time too Lyon Berners was maturing in his own mind a plan for her deliverance, which he was determined to begin to carry out as soon as they should reach the shore.
In a few minutes more the boat touched the wharf, and the party landed.
“I must trouble you to take my arm, Mrs. Berners,” said the Sheriff’s officer, drawing Sybil’s hand under his elbow.
She would have shrunk back, but Lyon looked at her significantly, and she submitted.
“Where do you mean to take us first?” inquired Mr. Berners, in a low tone.
“I wish to make this matter as little painful to this lady as the circumstances will permit. So I shall take her for the present to a hotel, where she must of course be carefullyguarded. To-night we shall start by the night coach for Staunton, en route for Blackville,” answered the elder officer, as with Sybil on his arm he led the way into the town. Mr. Berners walked on the other side of his wife, and the second officer followed close behind.
“We thank you for your consideration, Mr.—Mr.—” began Lyon.
“Purley,” continued the elder officer. “My name is Purley.”
“I do not remember you among the officers of the Sheriff’s staff, however.”
“No; I am a new appointment. I must tell you, sir, that so strong was the feeling of sympathy for this lady, that not one of the bailiffs could be induced to serve the warrant; they resigned one after another.”
“They all knew Sybil from her childhood up. I thank them, and will take care that they shall lose nothing in resigning their positions for her sake,” said Lyon Berners with much warmth, while Sybil’s heavy heart swelled with gratitude.
“And to tell the whole truth, had I known this lady, I should have felt the same reluctance to serving this warrant that was experienced by my predecessors in office.”
“I can well believe you,” answered Mr. Berners, gravely.
“Now, however, having undertaken the painful duty, I must discharge it faithfully,” added the officer.
“Yes, Mr. Purley, but gently and considerately, I know. You will inflict as little of unmerited mortification as may be consistent with your duty.”
“Heaven knows I will.”
“Then I have a plan to propose, and a favor to ask of you.”
“If I can gratify you with safety to the custody of my charge, I will do so; but here we are at the hotel now, and you had better wait until we get into a private sitting-room.The people of the place need not know that we are officers in charge of an accused party; but may be left to suppose that we are ordinary travellers.”
“Oh, I thank you for that!” exclaimed Mr. Berners, warmly.
They entered the hotel, a second-class house in a cross street, where the elder officer asked for a private sitting-room, to which they were immediately shown.
As soon as the four were seated, Mr. Berners turned to the elder officer and broached his plan.
“You spoke of taking the night coach for Staunton. Now, if another conveyance could be found—a private conveyance that would be more comfortable for all parties, and would also be entirely under your own control—would you not be willing that we should travel by it?”
“Oh! if you are able and willing to furnish a private conveyance for the journey, and place it as you say at my own exclusive orders, I shall be happy to take the lady down that way, rather than expose her in a public stage coach.”
“Thanks. I have a wagon and horses here at livery. They can be put to use at a few minutes’ notice. So, if you prefer, you can start at once upon this journey, and make some twenty-five or thirty miles before night.”
“Let us see the team first, and then we shall be able to judge,” said the officer.
And after a few minutes’ conversation it was arranged that Sybil should be left in charge of the second officer, and that Mr. Purley should go with Mr. Berners to the livery stable to look at the horses and wagon. These two went out together, and Purley took the precaution to lock the door and put the key in his pocket.
“Why have you done that?” inquired Lyon, reproachfully.
“Because women are irrational and impulsive. I have always found them so! She might suddenly cut and run;and although it wouldn’t be a bit of use, you know, because she would be sure to be retaken in an hour or less time; yet, you see, it would cause a fuss, and be very unpleasant to me and you and her and everybody.”
“I see,” said Mr. Berners, with a sigh, acknowledging the truth of the position.
Meanwhile Sybil sat, absorbed in despair, and guarded by the second officer. Suddenly she heard her name softly murmured, and she looked up. The young bailiff stood before her. He was a sturdy looking young fellow, swarthy skinned, black haired, and black bearded.
“Miss Sybil, don’t you know me? I beg your pardon! Mrs. Berners, don’t you know me?” he inquired in a low tone, as if fearful of being heard.
Sybil looked at him in surprise, and answered hesitatingly:
“N-no.
“You forget people that you have been good to; but they don’t forget you. Try to recollect me, Miss Sybil—Mrs. Berners.”
“Your face seems familiar; but—”
“But you don’t recollect it? Well, may be you may remember names better than faces. Have you any memory of a poor boy you used to help, named Bob Munson?”
“Bob Munson—oh, is it you? I know you now. But it has been so long since I saw you!” eagerly exclaimed Sybil.
“Eight years, Mrs. Berners; and I have been fighting the Indians on the frontier all that time. But I got my discharge, and came back with Captain Pendleton. You know it was him as I went out with, when he was a third lieutenant in the infantry. I ’listed out of liking for him, and we was together from one fort to another all these years, until Captain Pendleton got a long leave, and come home. I couldn’t get leave, but the Captain got my discharge.And when he goes back to his regiment, I mean to enlist again and go with him.”
“But how came you to be a sheriff’s officer? and oh, above all, howcouldyou come to takeme?” reproachfully inquired Sybil.
“Oh, Miss—I mean, Madam,—can’t you guess in your heart? When all the bailiffs throwed up their places rather than serve a warrant on you, and Mr. Purley, who was a stranger, got an appointment and kept it, they wanted another man. And then my captain said to me, ‘Munson, apply for the place; I will back you. And then if you get it, you will have an opportunity of serving, and perhaps freeing, Mrs. Berners.’ And a great deal more he said, to the same purpose, Ma’am; and so I did apply for the situation, and got it. And now, Madam, I am here to help you with my life, if necessary,” added the young man, ardently.
“Give me your hand. God bless you, Bob! Help me all you can. Ioughtto be helped, for I am innocent,” said Sybil, earnestly.
“Don’t I know it? Don’t everybody with any sense know it? Don’t even old Purley know it, ever since he first clapped eyes on your face?”
“Heaven grant that all may soon!” prayed Sybil.
“They will be sure to, Miss—I mean Madam.”
“Bob tell me: how was it that we were found out?”
“Well, you see, Miss—Ma’am—when you were at Dunville, where you was said to have staid all night, there was a fellow there who had a habit for which he ought to be hung—of looking through the key-holes and watching ladies when they thought themselves unseen. And this fellow saw you take off your red wig.”
“And so discovered and denounced me?”
“No, he didn’t, Ma’am; he didn’t even suspect who you was. He took you for a circus woman. And as for reporting what he had seen to anybody in that house, it wouldhave been as much as his life was worth. Old Colonel Purley—he’s a uncle of our bailiff—old Colonel Purley would have peeled the skin offen his body, if he had a-known he had done such a mean thing in his tavern.”
“Then how—”
“I’ll tell you, Ma’am. It was this way. That fellow which, his name was Batkin, was on his way to Blackville. And all along the road he kept telling the yarn about the beautiful black-haired young lady he had seen, and who had disfigured herself by wearing of a red wig; and of course he raised suspicions there. And when he was questioned farther, he described the wagon and horses, and the man and the woman, so accurately that the authorities thought it worth while to take the description down; and old Purley has it in his pocket along with the warrant. And then, as I told you, the bailiffs all resigned rather than go after you; and old Purley had to be appointed. And I applied, and got appointed too, only to help you!”
“Heaven reward you for the kind thought! But, Bob, there were some of the old set found who were willing to take me; for they went to Annapolis after me, armed with warrant for my arrest.”
“Yes; them two: Smith and Jones! Sink ’em! I’ve swore a oath to thrash ’em both within an inch of their lives the first time I set eyes on them! Well, they didn’t find you, Satan burn ’em! that’s one comfort.”
“How was it that you found us?”
“Oh, Miss Sybil—Mrs. Berners, I should say—we did it easy when we once had got the clue. We went first to Dunville to inquire after the gray-bearded man and his red-headed daughter, and we learned the road you had taken, and followed you from stage to stage until we got to Norfolk. There we inquired in the neighborhood of the market, and found where you had put up. Then, at the ‘Farmers’ Hotel,’ we were told, you had left for home thatafternoon. Of course we knewthatwas a ruse. We knew that if you had left, it was for the deck of some outward bound ship. So we inquired, and found out that the Enterprise was to sail in the morning. And we staid at this house all night, and boarded the ship this morning as you saw.”
“Oh, Bob! if you could have delayed for a half hour, the ship would have sailed, and I should have been free!” sighed Sybil.
“I did all I could to make a delay. I put laudanum in his coffee last night. I was afraid to put in too much for fear of killing him, so I suppose I didn’t put in enough, for he laid wide awake all night.”
“Ah, yes! that would be the effect of an under-dose of laudanum.”
“Well then, Ma’am, I put back our watches a whole hour. But, bless you, he didn’t go by the watches, he went by the sun; and as soon as it was light he was up, and he sent me down to order an early breakfast. And then I got a chance to put laudanum in his coffee again, and this time I overdid it and put in too much, for he tasted something wrong, and he said it was vile stuff, and he wouldn’t drink it! No, Miss—Ma’am, I didn’t neglect no means to let you get clean off. But you see it was no go this time; and I had to help old Purley to arrest you. I’m glad you didn’t know me, hows’ever. And I would advise you not to know me at all whenever old Purley is about. Keep dark, Miss Sybil, and I’ll find a way to get you off. I haven’t been hiding and seeking and hunting among the red-skins these eight years for nothing. Hish-sh! Here they come,” whispered Bob Munson, creeping away to the other end of the room, and putting himself on guard.
The elder officer unlocked the door, and entered, followed by Mr. Berners. He announced that the wagon was at thedoor, and that they were ready to start on the return journey. And then Purley gave his arm to Sybil, and led her to the wagon, and placed her on the back seat, while Mr. Berners and Bob Munson lingered behind, the former to gather up Sybil’s little personal effects, and the latter to settle the hotel bill. But there was no opportunity, among the crowd of guests and servants, for Munson to make his friendly intentions known to Mr. Berners by any other means than a significant look and a pressure of the hand, which Lyon Berners could not more than half understand. He felt, however, that in his younger officer he and his unhappy wife had a friend. They went out together, followed closely by the hostler, who wanted his own fee; but both Mr. Berners and Bob Munson were too much annoyed by his presence to feel like rewarding his attendance.
Lyon Berners mounted to the seat beside his wife, and Bob Munson to that beside Purley, who held the reins. And in this manner they set out on their return journey.
They crossed the ferry without attracting particular attention.
CHAPTER XXXII.A DESPERATE VENTURE
I have set my life upon a cast.And I will stand the hazard of the die.—Shakespeare.
It was yet so early in the morning that they drove ten miles out to a small village on the road before they thought of breakfast. There Mr. Berners reminded the officer in charge that Sybil had not yet broken her fast. Whereupon Purley drew up before the one little tavern of the place, alighted, and assisted his charge to alight, and then keeping fast hold of her arm, led her into the house, and ordered breakfast.
While the meal was being got ready he kept his party of four well together in the sitting-room where they waited. And as soon as breakfast was over, they all reëntered the wagon and resumed their journey. They travelled twenty miles before stopping to dine at a lonely roadside tavern, where again Purley watched his charge with such vigilance that she had no opportunity to speak privately either to her husband or their friend. Still she hoped this opportunity would be afforded when they should stop for the night. After an hour’s rest they went on again, travelling with moderate haste all the afternoon. They made fifteen more miles before sunset, and then, having driven forty-five miles that day, and finding their horses very tired, they determined to put up for the night at a small hamlet, whose comfortable little hotel promised rest and refreshment.
Still Purley kept close to his charge. They all had supper in a private sitting-room. And when that meal was over and the hour for retirement arrived, Purley himself accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Berners to their bedroom to see that it was secure. It was a front chamber, on the upper floor, with two front windows overlooking the village street, and but one door, which opened upon the passage.
“That is all safe,” said Purley, casting a glance around. “So I may leave you two alone here together, where no doubt, you are glad enough to be. But I’m sorry to say I must turn the key on you; not that I have any right to lock you up, sir, without your consent; but of course youwillconsent to that, for the sake of staying with your wife.”
“Of course I will; and thank you for the privilege,” answered Mr. Berners.
“All right then. Good-night to you both,” said Purley, closing and locking the door, and withdrawing the key.
And then he took a farther precaution for the security of his charge, by ordering a mattress to be brought and laiddown before that chamber door. And there he and his companion stretched themselves to rest like a pair of watch dogs.
As soon as Sybil found herself alone with her husband, she beckoned him to that end of the room which was farthest from the door, and when he was close beside her she whispered in the lowest tone:
“Did you observe anything peculiar in the manner of that younger bailiff?”
“I observed that he tried to attract my particular attention whenever we happened to be unnoticed for a moment. But as we were so very closely watched I had no opportunity of asking, or he of telling, what he meant,” said Lyon Berners.
“Then I will tell you all about it. When Mr. Purley went away with you, and left that young man guarding me, the first thing he did was to make himself known to me, and to place himself at my service even to the death!”
“Who was he?”
“Robert Munson; a boy that I was so fortunate as to be kind to in his childhood and mine. Afterwards he was a private soldier in Captain Pendleton’s company, and served under him for eight years, fighting the Indians on the frontier. At Captain Pendleton’s suggestion, and with his own hearty free will, he volunteered for this service of pursuing me, only that he might more effectually try to free me.”
“Sybil, what are you saying? Have we a friend in one of our captors?” exclaimed Lyon, in astonishment.
“Yes; a friend who will serve us to the death! Listen, dear Lyon, and I will tell you all about it,” answered Sybil.
And she commenced, and related all the circumstances of her acquaintance with Robert Munson; of his motives for entering upon his present avocation, and of his discovery of himself to her in the hotel at Portsmouth.
“Now may heaven grant that some day I may have an opportunity of rewarding that good fellow for his willing service, whether it ever avail us or not,” said Lyon Berners, earnestly.
“But dear Lyon, we must be very careful not to betray by any word or look that we have any acquaintance, much less understanding, with Munson, for to do so would be to ruin our only chance of escape,” said Sybil.
“Of course! of course! I understand that perfectly well!”
“But watch your opportunity, and when you feel it to be perfectly safe, communicate with Robert Munson.
“I understand, dear Sybil, and I shall be very prudent and very vigilant,” answered Mr. Berners.
And then they retired to rest.
Very early the next morning they were aroused by their keeper who never left his post at their door until he saw them come out of their room. And then he drew Mrs. Berner’s arm within his own and led her down to breakfast.
After breakfast they resumed their journey.
This first day and night on the road was a type of all that followed. The bailiff Purley never lost sight of his charge except at night, and then he first assured himself that her room was a secure prison, from which it would be impossible for her to escape; and then, to make assurance doubly sure, he always locked the door on the outside, put the key into his pocket, and stretched himself on a mattress across the threshold.
There was no opportunity afforded to Sybil, Lyon and their new friend to speak together in private; and as day followed day and night succeeded night in this hopeless manner, their spirits fell from despondency even to despair.
But as it is said to be darkest just before dawn, and thatwhen things are at their worst they are sure to mend, so it proved in their case.
On the evening of the fourth day of their tedious journey, they stopped to sup and sleep at a lonely farm-house, where for “a consideration,” the poor farmer consented, whenever he got the chance, to entertain travellers.
Here their wagon and horses were comfortably stabled, and themselves were lodged and feasted.
Here, as usual after supper, Mr. Purley accompanied his charge to her bedroom, which, to his perplexity, he found to have two doors; the one opening upon the upper hall, and the other communicating with an adjoining vacant chamber.
After some consideration, he solved the difficulty of guarding his prisoner by saying to his assistant:
“Well, Munson, all that can be done is this: one of us will have to sleep across one door, and the other across the other. And as I hav’n’t slept in a room for three nights, I reckon I’ll take the vacant room, and you may take the hall. But mind, don’t forget to draw the key out of the door when you lock it, and put it into your pocket. And mind also, to be sure to pull your mattress quite up to the door and lay directly across it, so that if the lock should be picked, no one can pass without going right over your own body; and, last of all, mind to sleep only with one eye open, or all the other precautions will be of no use at all.”
“I will be very careful, sir,” answered young Bailiff Munson, touching his hat to his superior officer in military style.
“And now, as your legs are younger than mine, I wish you would run down stairs and ask the farmer to send me up a mug of that home-brewed bitter beer he was talking about.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the young bailiff starting off with alacrity, while the elder remained on guard at the door of his charge.
In five minutes or less time, Munson returned with a quart measure of the “home-brewed,” which he handed to Purley.
“Souls and bodies! but it is bitter, sure enough! I have heard of bitter beer, but this beats all for bitterness that ever I tasted! However, the bitterer the better, I suppose; and this is really refreshing,” said Purley, as he drained the mug, and handed it empty to a negro boy, who had just brought in and laid down the mattress upon which Munson was to sleep.
Munson smiled to himself.
Then Purley reiterated all his cautions for the careful guarding of his charge, and at length bade his comrade good-night, and retired to the vacant chamber, to guard the door on that side.
Munson drew his mattress across the hall-door as he had been directed to do, and laid himself down in all his clothes—not to sleep, but to listen and watch until the house should grow quiet; for on this night he was resolved to effect the deliverance of Sybil, or perish in the attempt.
Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Berners had retired to their chamber—not to rest, but to wait for events; for on this night a sure presentiment informed them that Robert Munson, on guard there at their outer door, would be sure to use his opportunities for attempting a rescue. So they quietly coöperated with what they divined to be his intentions.
First Sybil went and hung a towel over the knob of the lock, so as to darken the key-hole of the door guarded by Purley. Then she slipped the bolt, saying:
“He may guard us if he must, but he shall neither look in upon us, nor intrude upon us, if I can help it.”
And then, instead of undressing for bed, they did the opposite thing, and quietly dressed for an escape. And lastly, they concealed their money and jewels about their persons, and threw a few of the most necessary articles fortheir journey into one travelling bag, and then sat down to listen and watch on the inside, as their friend was listening and watching on the outside.
Then they heard Purley arranging and re-arranging his bed against his door, and tumbling down upon it, like a man utterly overcome by fatigue and drowsiness; after which all was silent, until the stertorous breathing of the bailiff assured them of the depth of his sleep. After that, not a sound was heard in the house. Lyon looked at his watch. It was but nine o’clock, though the whole house was at rest. In these remote country places, people go to roost with the fowls, or very soon after.
Still for another hour of silent, breathless suspense they waited; and then they heard a faint tapping on the door that was guarded by Munson.
Mr. Berners went up, and tapped gently in response.
“Hist!” breathed the voice from without, through the key-hole.
“Well!” murmured Lyon, through the same channel.
“Take some of the melted tallow on the top of your candle, and grease the key-hole as well as you can, and then I will come in and talk to you, if you will let me.”
“Thanks; yes.”
And Mr. Berners did as he was requested to do, and Munson slipped his key into the lubricated key-hole, and silently unlocked the door.
“Oh, our deliverer!” fervently exclaimed Sybil, as he softly entered the room and closed the door behind him, holding up his finger in warning to them to be silent.
“And now sit close for a few minutes, while I tell you what I have done and am going to do,” said Munson, drawing a stool and sitting himself upon it, before Mr. and Mrs. Berners.
“Go on,” muttered Lyon, fervently pressing the hand of his friend.
“Oh, yes, go on, dear Bob!” eagerly whispered Sybil.
“First I put nearly half an ounce of laudanum in old Purley’s bitter beer, which made him think it so uncommon prime and bitter, that he drank the whole quart.”
“Good heaven! Munson, you have killed the man!” said Lyon, in dismay.
“No, I have only doubled the dose I gave him before, which took no effect on him, so this will only put him to sleep for twelve hours or so. Lord, listen how he snores! A thunderstorm wouldn’t wake him.”
“Well?”
“Next, as soon as he was asleep, I went into his room in my stocking-feet, and closed all the solid wooden shutters, to make him believe it is still night when he does awake and feel drowsy, as he will be sure to feel, so that he shall go to sleep again, and sleep until evening, and that will give you nearly twenty-four hours start of him.”
“Right! Quite right,” said Mr. Berners.
“Well, well; but go on, dear Bob,” impatiently murmured Sybil.
“I locked his door on the outside, and took away the key, to make the farmer or any of the family, if they should go into his room to see why he slept so long, think that he had locked himself in. For the rest I shall stay here and pretend to sleep very late myself. In fact I shall sleep until they wake me up, and then I shall be very angry, and tell them they had better not play that game on Mr. Purley, as he would be in a fury if his rest should be broken. And so I will guard these two rooms from intrusion, and your escape from being discovered, as long as I possibly can.”
“But when it shall be discovered, my poor fellow, will you not get yourself into trouble?” inquired Lyon.
“Even if I should, what will my trouble be to this lady’s? But at worst I shall only be cussed by old Purley, and turned out of my place by the sheriff; and as I’m used to being cussed, and don’t like my place, it don’t matter.”
“And in any case, you shall be well rewarded, dear Bob. Not that such a service as you are about to render uscanever be adequately rewarded; but, as far as—”
“Oh, dear Madam, don’t speak of reward! I owe you a debt of gratitude, which I am glad to pay. I have told you what Ihavedone, and what I shall do, to relieve you of anxiety; and now we had better quietly leave the house. Are you ready?” inquired Munson.
“We have been quite ready for these two hours, in anticipation of your help.”
“Come, then; but come very silently, though there is not the slightest danger, either, of our being heard. The farmer is a beer swiller, and sleeps heavily, and his women folks all sleep up in the garret. I saw them all go up myself; they passed with their candle, as I lay on the pallet,” whispered Munson, as he quietly led the way out into the hall and softly closed and locked the door, and withdrew the key.
“It is just as well to do this, to guard against the chance of any one opening the door while I am gone,” he added, as he softly preceded the party down the stairs.
He silently opened the front door, and they passed out into the free air.
A watch-dog that lay upon the mat outside got up and wagged his tail, and laid down again, as if to express his willingness that any inmate might leave the house who wished to do so, though no stranger should enter it except over his dead body.
“Sensible dog!” said Munson, as with more precaution he closed and locked the outer door, and took that key also with him.
“You must not attempt to escape with your wagon; but must ride your horses, which will be much more efficacious both for swiftness and for their ability to go through places where you could not take a wagon,” said Munson, as they walked across the farm-yard.
But when they drew near the stable, they were set upon by a couple of watch-dogs, who, barking furiously, barred their farther progress.
“There is no other way!” exclaimed Munson, and drawing a double barrelled pistol from his pocket, he shot one dog dead, while the other ran howling away.
Then with some difficulty they forced the door, and while Lyon remained on the outside with Sybil, young Munson entered the stable and led out their two horses.
“Here are several bridles, and here is one side-saddle, which will suit Mrs. Berners, if you have no scruple about borrowing them,” suggested Munson.
“I should have no scruple about borrowing anything from anybody to aid my wife’s escape. Besides, there is my wagon more than double the value of the things that we require; I will leave that in pledge,” said Mr. Berners.
“Just so,” assented Munson.
And all this time he had been arranging the side-saddle and bridle upon Sybil’s horse. As soon as it was ready Mr. Berners came around to lift his wife into her seat.
“One moment, dear Lyon,” said Sybil, pausing to adjust her dress.
While she did so, Munson again spoke to Mr. Berners.
“You have your pocket compass?”
“Yes.”
“Then I advise you to use it as soon as it is light, to direct your course. And do not go toward the east, for old Purley will pursue you in that direction, under the impression that you will try to reach another seaport town, and get off in a ship. But make for the interior, for the West, and get away as fast and as far as you can. Be careful to keep as much as possible in the woods, even though your progress should be slower through them than it would be in the open country. And now excuse my presuming to give you so much counsel; but you know I have been upon thewar path, out among the red-skins, and am up to hunting and flying.”
“I thank you—we both thank you from the depths of our souls. And we pray that the day may come when we shall be able to prove our gratitude,” said Lyon, earnestly.
“Never mind that! But put madam into her seat. She is ready now; and, indeed, the sooner you are off the better,” answered Munson.
Mr. Berners advanced towards Sybil, when the whole party was stopped by a terrible event.
“No you don’t, you infernal villain! I have caught you, have I? Stand!” exclaimed a voice of thunder, and the stout farmer stood before them, at the head of all his negroes, and with a loaded musket in his hand!
Like lightning young Munson threw himself before Sybil, drew a pistol from his breast, and levelled it straight at the heart of their opponent, exclaiming:
“Out of the way, you devil! and let her pass. Out of the way this instant, or, by my life, I will kill you! I will! I will kill you, and hang for her sake!”
The man raised his musket, and aimed it at the head of him whose hand pointed the pistol to his own heart. And thus, like two duellists, they stood fatally eyeing each other!