There came a burst of thunder sound!—Hemans.
Lyon Berners, chilled to the heart with the coldness of the night, half famished for want of food, and wearied with his late violent exertions, and wishing to recruit his strength for the next day's hard work, kindled a fire, and made some coffee, and forced himself to eat and drink a little, before he drew his mattress to the door of the vault, and stretched himself down as near as he could possibly get to the place where he believed the dead body of his beloved wife lay.
Poor little Nelly, abandoning her efforts either from exhaustion or in despair, crept up and tried to squeeze herself between her master and the door of the vault that she too thought held her mistress. Lyon made room for her to curl herself up by his side, and he caressed her soft fur, while he waked and watched.
It was now utterly dark in the chapel but for the dull red glow of the fire, which was dying out. An hour passed by, and the last spark expired, and the chapel was left in total darkness.
The agonies of that night who shall tell? They were extreme—they seemed interminable.
At length the slow morning dawned. Lyon arose with the sun, and walked about the chapel in the restlessness of mental anguish. The little dog followed at his heels, whining. Presently Lyon took up the crowbar and tried again to force the iron door. He might as well have tried to move a mountain. He threw away the crowbar in desperation, and then he stooped and peered through the iron bars: all dark! all still in those dismal depths! He turned away and rekindled the fire, and prepared a little breakfastfor himself and his dumb companion. He must cherish his strength for the work that was before him.
After having eaten a morsel, and given his dog food, he signalled to her to lie down at the door of the vault and watch, while he went out towards the thicket to look for Joe, who might now soon be expected.
He went through the church-yard, and on to the entrance of the thicket path; he even pursued that path until it led him out upon the river road. He looked down the road for miles, but saw no sign of Joe!
Then, not wishing longer to leave the spot where the body of his murdered wife was supposed to lie unburied, he went back through thicket and graveyard to the chapel, where at the door of the vault the faithful little Skye terrier still watched.
He entered and threw himself down beside her, there to wait for the return of his messenger.
But ah! this was destined to be a day of weary, weary waiting! The morning advanced towards noon, and still Joe did not appear. Lyon arose and walked restlessly about the chapel, stopping sometimes to peer down into the vault, where nothing could be seen, or to call down where nothing could be heard, or he took up the crowbar again, and renewed his frantic efforts to force the iron door that nothing could move.
Noon passed; afternoon advanced.
"Something has happened to Joe," said the desperate man to himself, as once more he started out in the forlorn hope of meeting his messenger.
Again the weary way was traversed; again he went through the church-yard and thicket, and came out upon the long river road, and strained his gaze far along its length, but without seeing signs of the negro's approach.
"Yes; some accident has befallen Joe. All goes wrong, all is fatal, all is doomed!" He groaned in despair as heturned and retraced his steps towards the old "Haunted Chapel." As he drew near the building, he was startled by the furious barking of his little deg.
"Poor little Nelly has worked herself up into hysterics again at the door of that vault," he said to himself, as he quickened his pace and entered the building.
He found it in the possession of the constables, with the sheriff at their head. Mr. Benthwick, with an expression on his face oddly made up of triumph and compassion, advanced to meet him, saying:
"We are not at fault now, Mr. Berners. We returned to-day to resume our search through these mountains, and late this afternoon, as we were returning from our unsuccessful pursuit of the burglars, we were met here in the churchyard by these men."
And here the sheriff pointed to Purley and Munson, who were standing at a short distance.
"They told us," proceeded Mr. Benthwick, "that Mrs. Berners, with your assistance, had escaped from their custody."
"Right over my dead body, which I should say, my sleeping body," put in Purley.
"And that she was certainly concealed in this chapel, as they had received unquestionable information to that effect," added Mr. Benthwick.
"Well, sir, if you find her here, you will succeed in the search far better than I have done," replied Lyon Berners, grimly. "We have foundyouhere, and under very suspicious circumstances; so we will take leave to make a more thorough search than we did yesterday," replied the sheriff.
"Have you tried the vault?" inquired Purley.
"No; but we will try it now. She may be concealed within it, after all," said Mr. Benthwick. And seeing the crowbar, he took it up and went to work upon that immovable door; but finding it so fast, he threw down the tool, saying:
"It is of no use to work at that door in that way, and it is of no use either to look through the bars, for you can see nothing but black darkness. But, Purley, I will tell you what to do. Do you go and cut the most resinous knot that you can find on the nearest pine tree, and bring it to me."
Purley started off in a hurry, and soon returned with a pine knot fairly soaked with turpentine.
"Now, then," said Mr. Benthwick, as he took the torch from the hand of his messenger. "I think this will throw some light into the darkness below!"
And he applied it first to the fire in the aisle, and then he carried, it, flaming high, to the door of the vault, and putting it through the iron bars, let it drop into the vault.
It was lighted up in an instant, and the sheriff and Purley bent down to look through the grating to see what the interior illumination might show them.
And Lyon Berners, whose anxiety was of course more intense than that of any one present, elbowed his way through the crowd to get nearer the door of the vault.
But before he could effect his purpose, a sound of thunder burst upon the air; the solid floor upheaved; the walls of the old Haunted Chapel fell in a heap of smoking ruins; and all the valley and the mountain tops were lighted up with the flames of destruction.
Horror wide extendsHer desolate domain!—Thompson.
The thunder of the explosion, when the old Haunted Chapel was blown up, was heard for many miles around.
It burst upon the unsheltered wayfarers like the crack of doom!
It stunned the plantation negroes gathered around their cabin fires!
It startled the planters' families at their elegant tea-tables!
Travellers paused panic-stricken on the road!
Home-dwellers, high and low, rushed with one accord to doors and windows to see what the dreadful matter might be!
Was it an earthquake?
Had some unsuspected volcano suddenly burst forth in the mountain? Indeed it seemed so!
Volumes of black smoke ascended from a certain point of rocks, filling all the evening air with the suffocating smell of sulphur.
There was a pause of astonishment among the people for about one minute only; and then commenced a general stampede of all the able-bodied men and boys from a circle of several miles in circumference to the centre of attraction; while the women and girls waited at home in dread suspense!
But the very first on the scene of the catastrophe was a lamed negro.
Poor Joe! Just as his master had surmised, he had met with an accident. He had, indeed, reached Black Hall insafety, near the dawn of that day; but being quite exhausted with twenty-four hours of watching, working, and fasting, he succumbed to drowsiness, fatigue, and famine. In short, he ate and drank and slept.
He did not mean, poor faithful creature, to do more than just recruit sufficient strength to take him back, with the tools, to his master.
But when one, under such circumstances, surrenders to sleep, he loses all control over himself for an indefinite period of time. Joe slept fast and long, and never waked until he was rudely kicked up by a fellow-servant, who demanded to know how he came to be sleeping on the hay in the barn, and if he meant to sleep forever.
Joe started up, at first confused and delirious, but afterwards, when he came to his senses and found that it was past noon, he was utterly wretched and inconsolable. He did not even resent the rudeness of his comrade, in kicking him up; but, on the contrary, meekly thanked him for his kindness in arousing him.
And then he went and gathered his tools together, and saddled his horse, and without waiting for bite or sup, he told his mate that he had work to do at a distance, and mounted and rode off towards the ferry, which he had to cross to reach the river road on the other side, because, with, the weight of iron tools he carried, he could not possibly get over the ford.
All this contributed so to delay Joe's journey, that the sun set while he was still upon the river road, and "the shades of night were falling fast" when he reached the entrance of the thicket path leading to the Haunted Chapel.
He had not ridden more than a hundred yards up this path, before the thunder of the explosion burst upon his appalled ears. And at the same instant his affrighted horse, with a violent bound, threw him to the earth, jumped forward and fled away.
Amazed, stunned, bewildered as he was, Joe did not entirely lose his senses. When recovered a little from the shock, he felt himself all over to see what bones were broken; and found to his great relief that all were sound.
Then he got upon his feet, and looked about him; but a dense, heavy, black vapor was settling down upon the thicket, hiding all things from his view, while the stifling fumes of brimstone took his breath away.
"I'm——!"—Joe in his consternation swore a very profane oath, which it is not necessary here to repeat—"ef I don't b'leibe as de Debbil has blowed de old Haunted Chapel! And oh! my Hebbenly Marster!ef so, what have become o' Miss Sybil and Marse Lyon, and Nelly?" he cried in a sudden pang of terror and sorrow, as he tried to hurry towards the scene of the tragedy. He set off in a run, but was brought up short by a sharp severe pain in his right ancle.
"It's sprained! Bress de Lord, ef it an't sprained!" he cried, drawing up and caressing his injured limb.
"It an't no use! I can't put it to the ground no more!" he groaned.
Then standing upon his left foot and holding the other in his hand, he looked around and saw the pick lying among the scattered tools, that had fallen from his hold when the horse threw him. He cautiously bent down and took up the pick, and reversed it, and using it as a crutch, he hobbled on through the thicket towards the ruins of the old chapel. But his progress was so slow and painful that it took him nearly an hour to reach the place.
When at length he emerged from the thicket and entered the old churchyard, a scene of devastation met his view that appalled his soul.
"Oh, my Lord!" he said, stopping and leaning upon his pick-crutch, as he gazed around, "what an awful sight! Joe, you are like—somebody among the ruins of something," he added, as a vague classic similitude about Scipio and Carthage flitted through his half-dazed brain.
It was indeed a scene of horror deep enough to dismay the stoutest heart! Nor was that horror less overwhelming for the obscurity that enveloped it. The Haunted Chapel was gone; and in its place was a heap of blackened, burning, and smoking ruins, with here and there the arm or leg of some crushed and mutilated victim protruding from the mass. And in strange contrast to this appalling scene, was a poor little Skye terrier, preserved from destruction, Heaven only knows how, that ran snuffing and whining piteously around and around the wreck.
"Come, Nelly! pretty Nelly! good Nelly!" called Joe.
The Skye terrier left off circling around the smouldering ruins, and bounded towards her dusky friend, and leaped upon him with a yelp of welcome and a whine of sorrow.
"Oh, Nelly! Nelly! what has happened?" cried Joe.
The little dog howled dismally in answer.
"Yes, I know what you would say. I understand. The devil has blown up the Haunted Chapel," said Joe.
She lifted up her nose and her voice in a woe-begone howl of assent.
"Just so; but oh! Nelly! Nelly Brown! where is the master and the mistress?"
She answered by a cry of agony, and ran back to the ruins, and re-commenced her pawing and whining.
"Ah, yes! just so; buried under all that there," groaned Joe.
But Nelly ran back to him, barking emphatically, and then forward to the ruins, and then, seeing that he still stood there, back to him again, with the most eloquent barks, that seemed to assure him that her master and mistress were under the mass, and at length to ask him what was the use of his being a man, if he could not dig them out.
Never did man and dog understand each other better. Joe replied to Nelly as if she had spoken in the best approved English.
"I know it, honey! I know they are; they are there!" he sobbed, "but you see I'm crippled, and can't do nothing."
But the little Skye terrier could not comprehend such incompetency in a human creature, and so she very irrationally and irritatingly continued her appeals and her reproaches, until Joe hobbled up to the heap of smoking ruins to take a nearer view.
The first thing that met his sight was the sole of a man's boot, belonging to a leg protruding from the mass.
"If it should be hizzen! Oh, good gracious! if it should be marster's! But no," he continued, on a closer examination of the limb. "No! there is a spur on the heel. It isn't hizzen. No! thank goodness, it is Master Sheriff Benthwick's, and sarve him right too."
While Joe was exulting, either wickedly over the destruction of the sheriff, or piously over the possible preservation of his master, there was a sound of crackling footsteps through the thicket, and the forerunners of the approaching crowd appeared upon the scene.
Among them was Captain Pendleton, who, recognizing the figure of Joe even in the obscure light, strode towards him, eagerly demanding:
"What is all this? How did it happen? Do you know?"
"Oh, marse Capping Pendulum, sir, I's so glad you'se come!" cried Joe, on the verge of tears.
"But how did this happen?" impatiently repeated the captain.
"Oh, sir, don't you see as the debbil has blowed up the Haunted Chapel and my young mistess and marster into it all this time," sobbed the man.
"Good Heaven! You don't mean that, Joe!" exclaimed Captain Pendleton.
"Yes, I do, sir; worse luck! which you can see for yourself, as even poor little ignorant Nelly knows it," wept Joe.
And the little Skye terrier, as if to confirm the negro's words, ran and leaped upon the captain, whining pathetically, and then ran backward and forward between him and the heap of ruins, as if to impress upon his mind that her dear master and mistress were really buried there, and to implore him to come to their assistance.
But other people were now pouring rapidly in upon the scene of the catastrophe.
Exclamations of horror and dismay were uttered; then pine knots were sought and lighted, and everybody crowded around the ruins.
"There are humanbeingsburied beneath this pile; for Heaven's sake, friends, lose no time; but disperse and find tools to dig this away!" exclaimed Captain Pendleton, energetically.
Several of the by-standers started at once for the nearest farm-houses to procure the needful tools.
Captain Pendleton turned to Joe.
"Tell me now," he said; "how came Mr. and Mrs. Berners in this place?"
Joe related all that he knew of their escape from the sheriff's officers, their accidental meeting with him, their arrival at the Haunted Chapel, the mysterious disappearance of Sybil, the visit of the constables and militia-men in search of the burglars; the means that his master and himself took to discover traces of Sybil through the instinct of her little dog; the reasons they had, through the behavior of the little Skye terrier, to believe that the lady had been taken down into the vault and robbed and murdered; his own departure in search of tools to take up the flagstones over the vault, and finally his return to the scene of action to find the Haunted Chapel one mass of ruins.
"When I left marster he was sitting at the door of thevault, where we thought the dead body of my poor murdered young mistess was hid; and when I comed back I found this here!" sobbed Joe, pointing to the wreck.
"Good heaven! my man, this is a frightful story that you tell me! Sit yourself down on the ground, and give me that pick which you are using for a crutch! I must go to work here," exclaimed Captain Pendleton, taking the pick from the negro and beginning to dig vigorously at the mass of fallen stone and mortar.
The men and boys who had gone after implements now came hurrying back, with picks, spades, hoes, rakes, etc., over their shoulders.
They immediately fell to work with a zeal and energy inspired by curiosity and terror; and while the boys held the lighted pine knots high above their heads, the men dug away at the mass with all their might and main.
It was a wild scene, that deep glen; the heap of smoking ruins in the midst, the affrighted crowd of workers around it, the flaming torches held on high, the spectral gravestones gleaming here and there; the whole encircled by dark, towering mountains, and canopied by a murky, midnight sky!
In almost dead silence the fearful work went on.
The first body exhumed was that of the unfortunate Sheriff Benthwick, quite dead. It was borne tenderly off to some distance, and laid down on a bed of dried leaves beneath the shelter of an oak-tree.
Then four other bodies were dug out from the mass, among them that of the bailiff Purley. And these were carried and laid beside that of the sheriff.
And now, though the workmen dug away at the ruins as vigorously as ever, they found nothing but broken timbers, stone, and mortar. No sign of Lyon or Sybil Berners was to be seen. A wild hope sprang up in the heart of Joe—a hope that in some miraculous manner his young master andmistress had escaped this terrible destruction—a hope that the little Skye terrier would by no means encourage, for she continued to run around the ruins, and in and out among the legs of the workmen, to the serious danger of her own life and limbs, and to bark and whine and paw, and assert in every emphatic manner a little brute could use, that her master and mistress were really under there and nowhere else.
"You'll drive me to despair, you little devil of a dog! You'd make 'em there, whether they're there or not, and I tell you they an't there!" cried Joe in desperation.
But Nelly held to her own opinion, and clamorously maintained it.
She was soon justified. The workmen, in course of their digging, removed quite a hill of plaster, stone, and broken timbers, and came upon a leaning fragment of the back wall, inclined at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and supported in its place by a portion of the altar and the iron door of the vault, which had stood the shock of the explosion.
Under this leaning wall, and completely protected by it, lay two men, scorched, bruised, stunned, insensible, but still living.
They were Lyon Berners and Robert Munson. Amid the surprise and satisfaction of the crowd, they were carefully lifted out and laid upon the ground, while every simple means at hand were used for their restoration, while the little Skye terrier ran round and round with yelps of joy and triumph, which seemed to say:
"I told you so! and next time you'll believe me!"
"Friends," said Captain Pendleton, addressing some of the men who were still working away at the ruins, "there is no use in your digging longer! You may see from the very position of that wall and the aspect of everything else here, that there can be no more bodies among the ruins.You can do nothing to bring the dead to life; but you can do much to save the living from death. Hurry some of you to the nearest house and bring a couple of shutters, and narrow mattresses also, if possible! These men must be taken to my house, which is nearest, to receive medical attention."
As the captain spoke, a dozen workmen threw down their tools and started on the errand.
Old Joe hobbled up to the spot, where Captain Pendleton sat supporting the head of Mr. Berners on his knee, while little Nelly jumped around, now in a hysterical state between joy and fear; for she saw at last, that though her master was rescued, he was not yet safe. On seeing Joe come up, she jumped upon him with an eager bark which seemed to say:
"You see I was right! Here he is, sure enough!"
"Yes, Nelly, that's all very well as far as it goes. But where's the young mistess, Nelly; where's Miss Sybil?" sorrowfully inquired Joe.
The little dog looked up in his face with a bark of intelligence and distress, and then broke away and ran in among the ruins.
"There still is she!" exclaimed Joe, and he hobbled after the little Skye terrier to the place where the leaning fragment of the wall was supported by the iron door of the vault.
"They must dig into that vault. I'll never be contented until they dig into that vault; and I'll speak to Capping Pendulum about it," said Joe, and he hobbled back to the spot where that gentleman still sat supporting the head of his wounded friend.
"Sir, Marse Capping," said Joe, respectfully taking off his hat, "you heerd what I tell you 'bout marster and me having of good reasons to s'pose as my young mistress was robbed and murdered and hid into that vault?"
"Yes," gravely assented the captain.
"Well, sir, Marse Capping, Nelly do stick to it as sheisdown there. And, sir, I shall neber feel satisfied into my own mind, till the men dig away all the rubbish and lay open 'the secrets of that there prisin house.'"
"Joe, it shall be done, if only for the satisfaction of your faithful heart," said the captain.
"And for Nelly's too, sir. See how she stands and looks up into your face, waiting for you to 'cide, just as if she understood all that I was a axing of you, which of course she do."
"Not a doubt of it," assented the captain.
At that moment the messengers who had been dispatched for shutters and mattresses, returned with the articles, and set them down before Captain Pendleton.
"Now, my men," said the captain, "arrange one of the mattresses upon the shutter, and assist me to lay my wounded friend upon it."
Ready hands obeyed this direction, and the faintly breathing body of Lyon Berners was laid down in comparative ease.
The same service was performed for poor young Munson, who was badly injured, and also quite unconscious.
"Now, my men, this poor negro has reason to believe that the body of his mistress may be found in the bottom of that vault; I want you therefore to go to work as fast as you can, and remove all the rubbish that has fallen into it, even down to the floor," was the next order given by the captain.
And the men seized their picks and resumed their digging with renewed energy.
"Joe, stay here by your master and this poor fellow; and occasionally wet their lips with this brandy and water, while I go and see to the clearing out of the vault," said Captain Pendleton; and leaving Joe in charge of the wounded men, he followed the workmen to the ruins to urge them to the greatest expedition, adding as a reason for haste:
"It is time that Mr. Berners and Munson should be taken to my house, and placed in bed, to receive proper medical attention. But I cannot consent to leave this spot even to attend to them, until I find out whether the body of Mrs. Berners is really under the ruins."
Thus exhorted, the men worked with tremendous energy, and soon dug away all the pile of rubbish, and laid the depths of the vault open to the torch light. But there was nothing to be seen but the damp and slimy walls and floor, and the little heaps of broken stones and fallen plaster in the corners.
"Not there! Well, then, I didn't know whether I was a-hoping or a fearing to find her there, or whether I'm glad or sorry now at not finding her there," said Joe, who in his excessive anxiety had at length deserted his post beside the wounded men, and hobbled up to the opened vault.
"You should be glad, for now you have no evidence of her death; but, on the other hand, good reason to hope that she is somewhere alive and well," said Captain Pendleton.
"That's so too, Marster Capping. But only see what a little story-teller Nelly is!"
"It was her master she scented, and she found him."
"Yes, but she tried to make me believe as her mistess was down there also. And look how she sticks to the story! There she is down there still running round and round like she was crazy, and a snuffing at all the corners!"
"Never mind Nelly, Joe. Come along now. We must take your master and the other poor fellow on to my house. It should have been done before this. I am sorry for this delay, which has been so fruitless," said Captain Pendleton, as he led the way back to the spot where he had left the injured victims of the explosion.
"Marster Capping," said Joe, as he hobbled after Pendleton, "I have got two horses tied up there into thewoods, ef they haven't been frighted at the blowing up, and done broke loose; and I have got a wagon down by the roadside, if so be as you would like to convey my wounded marster and the t'other gemplan that a way."
"No, Joe; the jolting of a wagon might be fatal to them in their present condition. They must be carried carefully on shutters. But the wagon will be just the thing to convey the dead bodies to Blackville, where an inquest must be held upon them," answered the captain.
And he requested some of the men present to go in search of the horses, and to harness them to the wagon for the required services to the dead, while others he detained to help in care of the wounded.
When the shutters upon which Lyon Berners and Robert Munson lay were each carefully lifted by the hands of four men, and the little procession was about to start, Captain Pendleton called to Joe, saying:
"You must go with me to have your limb looked to, and also to be with your master, who will need familiar faces near him when he comes to himself."
"Yes, sir; Marse Capping Pendulum, I will go. But oh, my Hebbenly Lord, what will I have to tell my poor marster, when he opens his eyes and looks at me?" cried Joe, bursting into tears.
"Come, come, be a man! Stop howling, and do your duty—which is now to follow your master," expostulated the captain.
"Yes, sir, I'll do it; but I must get Nelly fust. I couldn't leave her, poor little dog, here to pine away and die in the vault," sighed Joe, who then lifting his voice, cried, "Nelly! Nelly!"
But no dog answered. So Joe hobbled his way back to the opening of the vault, and looking down into it, exclaimed:
"Bless my two eyes! ef there she an't a-whinin and a-pawin' and a-sarchin' as persemoniously as ever!—Nelly! Nelly!"
At the sound of his voice the little terrier ran up from the vault, and leaped upon him.
Joe stooped and picked her up in his arms, and hugged her affectionately to his bosom, as he said:
"You see it's no use stayin' here, my poor little dog. Our mistess an't nowheres about here."
Nelly was however of a different opinion, and she whined and struggled to be released; and when Joe held her faster, she growled and threatened him with her teeth.
"Can't help it, my little darling. Our mistess an't nowhere round, and it an't no use your staying here to grieve yourself to death among the ruins.You'vegot to go along with me—Owtch!you little devil, you!" exclaimed Joe, suddenly breaking off in his discourse, and dropping the dog; who, having found that all her efforts to release herself had been in vain, had made her little teeth meet in the fleshy part of the negro's hand.
"Was there ever sich a vicious little beast?" cried Joe, as he hobbled away, sucking the blood from his wounded member. "Now she may stay there for me. I don't care ef she do pine herself to death, agrawatin' little brute!"
And so, grumbling and growling, he hobbled after the little procession that was now well on its way through the thicket.
Meanwhile little Nelly ran back into the vault, and re-commenced her irrational investigations.
The hours of the night wore on. The men who had been sent in search of the horses, with great difficulty found and caught them, and brought them back to the scene of the explosion. The dead bodies were bound upon their backs, and they were led through the thicket to the road, where the empty wagon was waiting. As there were five bodies and but two horses, and as only one body could bebound upon one horse at a time, it was necessary to make three trips through the thicket, before they could all be got upon the wagon. So it was a work of time and trouble to remove all the dead from the scene of the catastrophe. At length, however, the last body was bound upon the last horse and led away by the last man that left the spot.
And of all the living crowd that had filled the churchyard and surrounded the ruin, none was left but the little Skye terrier Nelly, who was still at work in the vault.
What was she doing?
She had concentrated her attention and her energies upon one spot—a moderate sized heap of densely packed rubbish in one corner. She was scratching away at this heap; she had already burrowed a hole of some depth; and still she scratched away, with all her might and main, until her strength failed; and then she sat down on her hind quarters and panted until she recovered her breath; and then she re-commenced and scratched away for dear life until something fell on the other side, and with a bark and bound of joy, she leaped through the aperture and ran snuffing along the damp ground.
Eureka!!the little Skye terrier had discovered what human intelligence had failed to do! She had found the secret subterranean passage, and now be sure she will find her mistress.
There's ae thing yet; there's twa things yet,To brag on that ye know;They never, never failed a friend,And never feared a foe.—Nicoll.
We left Sybil sleeping on her sylvan couch, in the cavern chamber of her nameless hostess. She slept on as they sleep who, being completely conquered by mental and bodily fatigue, surrender unconditionally to Nature's great restorer.
Late in the afternoon she awoke, much refreshed in mind and body, though at first somewhat confused as to her "local habitation." But the voice of her strange hostess at once restored her memory and self-possession.
"You have slept long and well," said the girl. "I have been in here half a dozen times at least to look at you, and always found you fast asleep. You never even changed your position. I think you must feel much better."
"I feel very well, thank you, if only I could hear from my husband," replied Sybil.
"Always the same subject! that is stupid and tiresome. But I can tell you about your husband. He is just now at the Haunted Chapel, waiting for the constables to go away, so that he may resume his search for you."
"Poor Lyon! But how do you know this?"
"Moloch, who has just come in, told me."
"'Moloch!' You have mentioned that name several times. Who is Moloch?"
"The lieutenant of the band. Belial is the adjutant. Satan is the captain, but we seldom see him. He is a very fine gentleman, of the very first society. I have no doubt that you have met him often in the drawing-rooms, of wealth and fashion."
"Good Heaven! girl, what story is this that you are telling me?"
"The very truth. Satan is a gentleman. Belial also is no stranger to good company. Hem! they were both at your masquerade."
"Both at—!" gasped Sybil, losing her breath in astonishment.
"Your masquerade! Yes, for I tell you that they are both men of fashion and pleasure. As for poor old Moloch, he is just what he seems—a rude, rugged robber! And then there is Vulcan."
"But who are these men?" inquired Sybil, recovering her lost breath.
"I told you. Gentlemen in the drawing-room! Robbers on the highway."
"But why do you give them such diabolical names?"
"Because they are devils, each in his way! Moloch is a brutal and ferocious devil; Belial is a smooth, deceitful devil; and Satan is an intellectual and commanding devil."
"What are their right names?"
"It would be hard to tell! Each one having a score of aliases at his disposal."
"I hope I shall not be obliged to see any of these wretches!" imprudently exclaimed Sybil.
"They are devils, not wretches, if I know them and know the meaning of words! But reflect, madam, that to these wretches, as you call them, you owe your liberty and perhaps your life," said the elfin-like hostess, resentfully.
"My liberty! And here I am a captive among you."
"Only for a time; only until we can place you in perfect safety on a foreign shore. And that we are sworn to do. And is not this comparatively honorable captivity; better than the degrading one of the county jail?"
Sybil paled and shuddered through all her frame as she answered:
"I should be grateful for all this—but—but—my husband!"
"Oh, bother, there it is again! Always the samemew! If there's anything in the world makes me feel ill, it is a love-sick woman!" exclaimed the strange girl. But her short-lived anger quickly disappeared, and holding out her tiny brown hand to her guest, she said:
"Come, get up and wash! There is some fresh water and clean towels. And there is a change of clothing, if you wish to have it. And here am I, to serve as your lady's maid. And when you are dressed, there will be a dinner ready for you, of which I may say that the Govenor of the State will not sit down to a better one to-day."
Sybil gave her hand in token of reconciliation, and then arose from her couch of leaves. Very glad was she of the opportunity of washing and changing her dress; for of all the petty privations that were mixed up with her great troubles, she felt most the want of fresh water and clean clothes.
The girl waited on her kindly and skilfully. And Sybil would have been well pleased had she not, in taking up one of the fresh damask towels, saw on it the initials of her friend Beatrix Pendleton. She held it up to the view of her hostess, and looked inquiringly.
"Yes, to be sure! we wanted face towels, and they brought away a dozen or so of them from a house they recently visited. But you cannot help it. I advise you to make the best of everything," said the girl, answering the look.
Sybil said not a word in reply; but she thought within herself, "I am forced to consort with thieves, and to use their stolen goods; but I will profit by nothing which I shall not make good to the owner; and so as soon as I shall be freed, I will privately send Miss Pendleton a fourfold compensation."
And thus, having satisfied her conscience, Sybil took her hostess' advice, and made "the best of everything."
When she was thoroughly renovated by a complete change of clothing, every article of which she recognized as the property of Miss Pendleton, her strange hostess conducted her into the spacious and beautiful cavern that has been already described.
There was a large round table set in the middle of the floor, covered with a fine white damask cloth, and furnished with a heterogeneous service of the richest silver plate, the most delicate Sevres china and the coarsest earthen ware and rudest cutlery. There were plates laid for about a dozen persons. Around the table were seats as miscellaneous in quality as was the service; there were three-legged stools, stumpy logs of wood set on end, one very large stone, and one elegant piano chair.
"We always eat our great meal of the day in this place. You would call it dinner; we call it supper, but it is all the same," said the girl.
"Oh!" exclaimed Sybil, looking in dismay at the many plates—"Oh! have I got to meet all these horrid men?"
"Yes, my lady! You must meet these horrid men who have saved you! They do not often have the honor of a lady's company to supper, and they will not dispense with yours now," replied the elfin hostess, sarcastically.
A shudder ran through Sybil's frame; but she rallied all her strength to resist the creeping terror.
"These thieves are men, after all," she said to herself. "They are not beasts nor devils, as their companion calls them; they are human beings, why should I fear them?" And she spoke very cheerfully to her hostess, inquiring:
"When do you expect your companions in?"
"They drop in at any time in the evening. Some of them will be here soon, and then we will have supper."
The darkening of the cave now indicated that the sunwas setting. And soon the wild hostess clapped her hands and called in her pale attendant to light up the cavern. And the phantom vanished for a few moments, and then returned with two tall silver candlesticks, supporting two such large wax candles that Sybil saw at a glance that they must have been stolen from the altar of a Catholic chapel. And she shivered again at perceiving that she was the guest of the worst of outlaws—sacrilegious church-robbers! But soon her attention was attracted by the splendor of the scene around, when the stalactite walls of the cavern, lighted up by the great candles, emitted millions of prismatic rays of every brilliant hue, as if they were encrusted with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, topazes, and carbuncles, all of the purest fire.
"Splendid, is it not? What palace chamber can compare to ours?" inquired the girl, on observing the evident admiration with which her guest gazed upon the scene.
Before Sybil had time to reply there was the heavy trampling of feet near at hand, and the next moment four rough looking men entered the cave.
Involuntarily Sybil shrank closer to her hostess, as they passed near her. But not one of them either did or said anything to alarm or offend her. Each one, in his turn, gruffly greeted her by nodding, as he pulled off his hat and threw it into a corner, and then seated himself at the table.
The elfin girl clapped her hands, and when her attendant appeared, she ordered that supper should be immediately brought in.
Meantime Sybil furtively observed the four robbers, but one of them especially fascinated her gaze, with something of the terrible fascination that the boa-constrictor is said to exercise upon the beautiful birds of the Brazilian forest.
He was a great red-haired and red-bearded giant, whose large limbs and coarse features had well earned for him thenick-name of "Moloch;" and Moloch, Sybil instinctively knew this man to be. The other three were ordinary, hirsute, dirty ruffians, upon whom she scarcely bestowed a glance. Her eyes continually reverted to Moloch, from whom she could not long keep them. He was huge, ugly, brutal, ferocious; but he commanded attention, if only from the power that was within him.
But what terrified Sybil the most was this—that her own fascinated eyes at length attracted his, and he looked at her with a devouring gaze that made her eyelids fall and her very heart sink within her.
The two women—the dark and shrivelled old Hecate, and the pale, cold Proserpine—now brought in the supper. And as the elfin hostess had declared, a more luxurious meal did not grace the table of the State's Governor that day. There were green-turtle soup, rock fish, ham, wild turkey, and partridges, with every variety of vegetables and of condiments. And there were pies, puddings, custards, and pastries of every description. And jellies, jams, and fresh and preserved fruits, of every sort. And there were priceless wines, andfragrantcoffee and tea. All these luxuries were placed at once upon the supper table, or a side table in full view of the company.
"We have no printed bill of fare," laughed Sybil's strange hostess; "but the fare itself is before you!"
"Let the lady be seated in the place of honor," growled Moloch, glowering at Sybil with his dreadful eyes.
"Which means the piano stool, I suppose," said the strange hostess, taking Sybil by the hand, and leading her to the seat in question.
She suffered herself to be put into it; but the next instant she was horrified by the insolence of Moloch, who deliberately arose from his seat and came around and placed himself beside her, and laid his great hand upon her shoulder.
"You are handsome," he said "Do you know it? But of course you do. The swells have told you so a many times."
"Don't touch me!" said Sybil, shrinking from him.
"Now don't put on airs. You're one of us, you know, and so we'll 'fend you to the last drop of blood in our weins. Only don't put on airs; but be kind to them as are kind to you," growled the brute.
"But take your hand away—please do. I cannot bear it!" cried Sybil, shrinking farther off still.
"Why, now, if you only knowed what this here hand have done in your sarvice, you'd fondle on to it, instead o' flinging it off like it was a wasp," coaxed the ruffian, stealing his arm around her neck.
But Sybil, with a sudden and violent gesture, cast it off, and started to her feet, seizing the knife beside her as a weapon of defence.
"Lord bless your pretty little soul, what's the good of that? Why, when I was a lad, I always liked to tease the kittens best that spit and scratched and fit the most! That only makes me like you better. Come now, sit down alongside o' me, and let's be good friends," said the ruffian, throwing his arms around Sybil, and forcing her into her seat.
"Stop that, you devilish beast! Let the lady alone!" cried Sybil's nameless hostess, in a voice of authority.
"Don't be jealous, my darling," replied Moloch, tightening his clasp around Sybil's waist.
"Men! why don't you interfere? He is rude to the lady!" cried the girl, appealing to the others.
"We never meddle between other men and their sweethearts. Do we, mates?" called out one.
"No, no, no!" answered the others.
"Oh, if Satan were here!" cried the girl in despair.
"Satan is here!" responded a voice close by.
And the robber captain stood among them as if he had risen from the earth!
Moloch dropped Sybil, and cowered in the most abject manner.
Sybil looked up, and turned cold from head to foot; for in the handsome, stately, graceful form of the brigand chief, she recognized the finished gentleman who, in the character of "Death," had danced with her at her own Mask ball, and—the probable murderer of Rosa Blondelle!