He was the mildest mannered manThat ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat;With such true breeding of a gentleman,You never could divine his real thought;Pity he loved adventurous life's variety,He was so great a loss to good society.—Byron.
While the walls of the cavern seemed wheeling around Sybil, the robber captain calmly came up to her, lifted his hat, and said:
"Spirit of Fire, I am happy to welcome you to your own appropriate dwelling place. Behold!"
And hewavedhis hat around towards the stalactite walls and ceiling of the cavern, now burning, sparkling, blazing, in the reflected light of the candles.
"Death!" uttered Sybil, under her suspended breath.
"Yes, Death! I told you, Spirit, that Death and Fire were often allies! But now, as we are no longer masquerading, permit me, Mrs. Berners, to present myself to you as Captain Inconnu," he said, with another and a deeper bow.
"That name tells me nothing," replied Sybil.
"What name does more?" inquired the stranger; andthen, without expecting an answer, he turned to Moloch, and said in his smoothest tones:
"Be so good as to give me this seat, sir."
But Sybil saw that the giant turned pale and trembled like the fabled mountain in labor, as he left the seat by her side, and slunk into another at some distance; and she felt far more fear of the graceful "Captain Inconnu," who now placed himself beside her, and behaved with so much deference, than she had felt of the brutal "Moloch," who had treated her with the rudest familiarity. And this fear was not at all modified by a whisper that reached her acute ears, from the man at whose side the giant had now seated himself.
"I could a' told you what you'd get, if you meddled wi' the Captain's gal! Now look out."
But the "Captain" conducted himself with the greatest courtesy towards his guest.
"Come here, Princess!" he said, addressing the girl, "come here and place yourself on the other side of this lady. If you are Princess, she is Queen."
The girl immediately came around and seated herself. And the master of the house helped his guest to the most delicate morsels of the viands before him.
Sybil, though in deadly fear of her gentlemanly attendant, accepted every one of his attentions with a smile. She knew poor child, to whom she was now obliged to pay court. Her one idea was her husband; her one want, to be reunited to him, at all risks or costs to liberty or life; and she knew that this man, the autocrat, as well as the Captain of his band, had the power to restore her to her husband, and so she exerted all her powers of pleasing to win his favor.
Poor Sybil! if she was rather ignorant of books, (for a gentleman's daughter,) she was still more ignorant of mankind. She might have learned something from the case ofRosa Blondelle, but she did not. And now no guardian spirit whispered to her:
"You saw how the blandishments of a beauty affected even your own true-hearted husband; and yet, with the best intentions, you are using the same sort of blandishments upon a brigand. What can you expect but evil?"
No; the voice of her guardian angel was silent; and the beautiful, honorable lady continued to smile on the robber captain, until his head was turned.
Near the conclusion of the feast, he filled a goblet to the brim with wine, and rising in his place, said:
"Fill high your glasses, men! Let us drink to the health of our new sovereign. Dethroned and outcast by the law, we will enthrone her and crown her the Queen of Outlaws! Fill to the brim with this best of wine. And mind, this cup is a pledge of amnesty to all offenders, of union among ourselves, and of devotion to our Queen!"
The toast was honored by full glasses and loud cheers. And none filled higher or cheered louder than the giant Moloch, who now felt himself secure from the captain's vengeance, by virtue of the general proclamation of amnesty.
The long-protracted feast came to an end at last.
The robber captain was not an impetuous brute like the giant Moloch. He was a refined and cultivated being, who could bide his time, and enjoy his happiness by anticipation.
So at the end of the supper, seeing that his guest was very weary, he signed to the girl to rise. And then he took the lady's hand, pressed it most respectfully to his lips, and placed it in that of the girl, saying:
"See your queen to her apartments, and serve her royally."
Poor Sybil! In her infatuation she smiled upon the brigand, with a look that deprived him of the last remnant of reason, and then she followed her conductor from the room.
The girl led the lady to the same cavern chamber where she had before slept, and then said:
"Listen to me. Satan is not himself to-night. Satan is in love. That is a more fatal intoxication than any produced by wine; and when the devil is drunk with love or wine, he is very dangerous. You must stay with me to-night."
"Your eyes are wide open, and as bright as stars! You are not sleepy at all," said the girl gazing upon Sybil's excited face.
"How can I be, when I slept so long to-day, and when I have so much to occupy my thoughts besides?" sighed Sybil.
"Do you wish to sleep?"
"Indeed I do; to sleep and forget."
"Here then," said the girl taking a full bag from a corner and drawing over it a clean pillow-case. "Here is a sack of dried hop-leaves. It is as soft as down, and soporific as opium. Put this under your head and you will find it to be a magic cushion that will convey you at once to the land of Nod."
Sybil took her advice and soon grew calm, and soon after lost all consciousness of her troubles in a deep repose, which lasted until morning.
The glinting of the sun's rays through the crevices in the cave, and the sparkling of the stalactites on the walls, first awakened Sybil. She saw that her hostess was already up and dressed; but had not left the cave. She was in truth setting the place in order after her own toilet, and, laying out fresh towels for that of her guest.
Sybil watched her in silence some time, and then spoke:
"I have been with youtwenty-fourhours, and yet do not know your name. Will you never tell it to me?"
"Yes, my name is Gentiliska; but you may call me Iska."
"Iska? Gentiliska? Where have I heard that singular name before?" inquired Sybil of herself; for in fact so many startling incidents had happened to her lately, that her mind was rather confused. She reflected a moment before she could recall the idea of the Gipsy girl, in the legend of the "Haunted Chapel." She turned and gazed at her hostess with renewed interest. A superstitious thrill ran through her frame. Yes; here were all the points of resemblance between this strange being and the spectral girl of the story! Here were the Gipsy features, the long black elf-locks, the jet black eyes, and arch eye-brows depressed towards the nose and lifted towards the temple, the elfish expression, the manner, the dress, the very name itself!
"Why do you look at me so strangely?" inquired the girl.
"Gentiliska!" repeated Sybil, as in a dream.
"Yes, that's it! Most of the girls of my race have borne it; but my great-grandmother was the last before me."
"Your great-grandmother?" echoed Sybil still as in a dream.
"Yes; she had no daughter or granddaughter, else they also would have been Gentiliska's. She had only a son and a grandson, and her grandson had only me," calmly replied the girl.
Sybil gasped for breath; and when she recovered her voice she exclaimed:
"But you have another name—a family name!"
"Oh, to be sure; most people have."
"Would you—would you tell it me?" inquired Sybil, hesitatingly.
The girl looked at her quizzingly.
"Believe me, I do not ask from idle curiosity," added Sybil.
"Oh, no; to be sure not. We are not a bit curious—we!"
"You needn't tell me," said Sybil.
"Oh, but I will. My family name? It is not a very noble one. It is indeed a very humble one—Dewberry."
"Dubarry!" exclaimed Sybil, catching her breath.
"Oh bother, no. I wish it was. That was the name of the great family who once owned all this great manor, which went to wreck and ruin for want of an heir!—oh, no; my name is Dewberry—the little fruit vine, you know, that runs along the ground, and takes its name from its cool berries being always found deep in the dew. Besides, I am English, and descended through my great-grandmother Gentiliska from the English gipsies.Shewas a gipsy queen."
"Gentiliska," said Sybil, "Tell me something about your great-grandmother. I feel interested in all that concerns gipsies."
"Well, but get up and dress for breakfast. I can talk while you are making your toilet."
"Certainly," said Sybil, immediately following the advice of her hostess, who with nimble hands began to help her to dress.
"My ancestress Gentiliska was the daughter of a long line of gipsy kings. On the death of her father, she became queen of the tribe."
"Her father had no sons?"
"Oh, yes, he had. But his daughter was made queen, I don't know why. She was very beautiful, and she sang and danced as charmingly as that beautiful Jewish princess, who danced off the head of holy 'John the Baptist.' She was an astute reader of human nature, and therefore a successful fortune teller. She always promised love to youth, money to the mature, and long life to the aged. One day at the races she told the fortune of a rich young man, in return for which he made hers."
"How?"
"He married her."
"Hedidreally marry her? You are sure?"
The girl flared up. "He took her abroad with him; andof coursehe married her."
"Of course he should have done so," sighed Sybil, as the fairy castle she had built for the girl fell like a house of cards.
"I tell you he not onlyshouldhave done so, but hedidso. My ancestress was no fool. She was married by special license. I have the license in a silver casket. It was the only heirloom she left her descendants, and they have kept it in the family ever since. They had a notion, I think, that there was wealth or honor hung on to it," laughed the girl.
"Honor certainly, wealth possibly."
"Ha! ha! ha! I don't see how. Little good for one or the other, it ever did us. My father was a tramp; my grandfather a tinker."
"But how was that? Your ancestress married a gentleman?"
"Yes, she married a gentleman, and her tribe discarded her when she deserted them. They would have discarded her all the same, if she had married a king who was not of her race. She went abroad with her husband, and visited, I have heard, the four quarters of the globe. She returned after two years, bringing with her a dark infant boy. She was about to go with her husband on another long, long voyage. He refused to allow her to take her child, but said, for the little lad's own sake, he must be left at nurse in England. The only point she could get him to yield was this, that the child should be left with her tribe until it should be five years old, when they would reclaim it."
"That was a very strange disposition for a gentleman to make of his son."
"It would have been, if he had cared a snap for his son,which he didn't, as after events proved. The gipsy wife sought out her own old grandmother, who was a famous doctress of the tribe. In the beldame's care she left the babe. Then with her husband she slipped away to sea, and neither the one nor the other was ever seen or heard of afterwards. The boy, deserted by his father and his mother, grew up a poor degraded little half-breed among the gipsies, scarcely tolerated by them, but loved and petted by his foster-mother, whose great power in her tribe only sufficed for his protection. When at length the old crone lay upon her death-bed, she called the youth to her side, and placed in his hand the silver casket, saying:
"Take it, my lad. It was put in my hands by your mother, when she left you with me. Take it, then; guard it as the most sacred treasure of your life; for it may bring you to wealth and honor yet.'
"And then she died, and the lad, with the casket for his only fortune, left the tribe, and took to the road alone, mending pots and kettles for a living, often suffering hunger and cold, but never, under any stress of poverty, parting with the silver casket." The girl paused for a moment and then resumed:
"But poverty never yet prevented a gipsy from taking a mate. He found one in the daughter of another travelling tinker, poorer, if possible, than himself. She lived only long enough to bring him one child, and then died, it is said, from the hardships of her life."
"That was miserable," sighed Sybil.
"It was so miserable that her widowed husband never tried marriage any more; but he brought up his son to his own trade—that of a travelling tinker. And when the time came for him to give up the ghost, he placed the casket in the hand of the boy, saying:
"Your mother died of want, rather than let it be sold for a sum that might have saved her life and made hercomfortable; because she said that in it was her child's destiny. Keep it and guard it as you would guard your heart's blood.
"And so the old tinker died, and the young tramp, with the heirloom in his possession, set out to seek his fortunes.
"But he did not go upon the quest alone. Like most improvident young tramps, he took a mate. His wife was my mother. I remember both my parents while they were yet young and handsome, and very happy despite their poverty. My father—But let me stop! Before I go any further, I wish to ask you a question."
"Ask it."
"Do you believe that any one may become so maddened with causeless jealousy as to commit a crime?"
"I not only believe it, but know it."
"Then I will go on. My father doted on my mother—just doted on her! But my poor mother had a friend and benefactor, of whom my father grew insanely, furiously, but causelessly jealous.
"One day he did a cruel murder, and found out when it was too late that he had slain the father of his wife, who, in coming after her at all was only looking to the interests of his poor, unowned daughter. Ah! a volume might be written on that tragedy; but let it pass! My mother died of grief. But long ere that my father had fled the country an outlaw and the companion of outlaws.
"Once his still absorbing love for his wife drew him back to England, at the imminent risk of his life. His wife was dead, and his daughter was a little wretched child, knocked about among beggars and tramps, and in extreme danger of that last evil—that last, and worst evil that could have befallen her—being taken care of by the parish!"
"That is a severe sarcasm," said Sybil, rebukingly.
"Is it? If ever you are free again, lady, visit the most destitute homes in the world, and then the best alms-housesin your reach, and find out for yourself whether it is not better to die a free beggar than to live an imprisoned pauper. The manner in which Workhouse Charity 'whips the devil round the stump' by satisfying its conscience without benefiting its object, is one of the funniest jokes, as well as one of the most curious subjects of study, that can be found in social life."
"I am sorry to hear you say so; but go on with your story."
"My father, bowed down with remorse for his crime, and grief for the loss of his wife, found yet something to live for in me, his only child. He brought me away to the coast of France, where he and his pals were carrying on a very successful business in the smuggling line.
"They run goods to and fro between the French and English shores of the Channel. One day he was fatally wounded in an encounter with the Excise officers, near St. Margaret's. He was taken prisoner, but all the other members of his band escaped. When he knew he was dying, he sent for me, and the officers were kind enough to have me looked up.
"I was then wandering about the village in a state of destitution, in which I must have perished but for the kindness of the poorest among the poor, who shared their crusts and their pallets with me.
"I was taken to my father, who was dying in the Dover jail. He gave me the silver casket, telling me what a sacredheirloomit was, and how he had kept it through every temptation to part with it, and that I must guard it as the most precious jewel of my life; for that one day it might be the means of making me a lady."
"I didn't say 'Bosh' to my dying father; but I have said 'Bosh' ever since, every time I have thought of that bauble! It never did any good to my father, or my grandfather, and it is not likely to relent in my favor. Beyondthe fact that it proves my great-grandmother, the Gipsy Queen, to have been an honest woman, I don't see any use it is to her descendants."
"I have it still, as I told you before; because from the hour of my poor father's death, I have never known a want, or felt a temptation to part with it. I was adopted by his band, who have always treated me like a princess."
"But I have a sort of spite against it, for all that, for it never yet did what was expected of it; and so, the first time I find myself hungry without the means of procuring food, I will sell the silver casket to the first purchaser I can find; and the first time I want to light a candle and can't find any other piece of paper, I will burn the marriage license."
"Don't you do it!" exclaimed Sybil, eagerly, earnestly; "burn, sell anything you possess sooner! I believe that that casket has been preserved through three generations for your sake,yours! And if, as your poor father hinted, it does not make you a lady,—for nothing but nature and education can make one a lady, you know—it will be sure to make you a woman of wealth and position!"
"Bosh! Iwillsay 'bosh' to you; for you are not my father," sneered the girl.
"Suppose I were able to furnish you with the key to the lock of this sealed family history of yours? Suppose I could point out to you the place where Philip Dewberry, as you called him, carried his gipsy wife Gentiliska; where she died without other children; and where he also subsequently died without other heirs?" inquired Sybil.
"If you could do that, you could do wonders!" laughed the girl incredulously.
"I believe I can do all this! I believe I can give you the sequel and complement of the family history you have told me!" said Sybil seriously.
"How is it possible? You can know nothing of it. I am English, you are American. The ocean divides ourcountries, and the century divides that past history from the present."
"Divides andunites!" said Sybil.
"But how is that?"
"Gentiliska, did you never think of connecting the two circumstances; your race of Dewberrys searching for the estate to which they had a claim, but no clue; and this manor of the Dubarrys, waiting in abeyance for the heir who never comes to claim it?"
"No!" exclaimed the girl in some excitement, "I never did! But the coincidence is striking too. Only—one name is Dubarry and the other is Dewberry. Bosh, I say again! One name is even French, and the other is English! They are not even of the same nation; how can they have any connection with each other?"
"My dear; don't you know how easy it is to corrupt a name? Don't you see how inevitably the aristocratic French name Dubarry would be corrupted by ignorant people into the humble English name Dewberry?"
"Yes; but I never thought of that before."
"Now, will you let me look at that license?"
"I don't care. Only whenever I put my hands upon it, I am tempted to tear it up."
"Do nothing of the sort; guard it as you would guard your precious eyes. And now let me see it."
"And Iska,And Iska,And Iska's a lady."
The girl went to a little trunk, unlocked it, and brought out the small silver casket. She touched a spring and the top flew open revealing a packet of papers, from which she selected one brown with age, and worn almost into squares by folding. She laid it before Sybil, who carefully unfolded it, and scrutinized it.
"There, you see!" said the lady at length, speaking in triumph. "There is the name of Philip Dubarry, as plain as a proctor's clerk could write it. Not Dewberry, mind you, but Dubarry. See for yourself."
"So it is!" exclaimed the girl in amazement. "Now do you know I never examined it so closely as to see the difference in the spelling of the name before? We were always called Dewberry; and Dewberry I thought we were."
"No; you were and are Dubarry, and in all human probability the sole heiress of this great manor."
"Stop a bit; oh, my eye! I mean, oh, my nose!"
"What's the matter?"
"I smell a mice!"
"What do you mean?"
"Satan knows I am a princess in disguise, and that's the very reason why he wants to marry me."
"Please be clear, if you can't be brilliant."
"Why, I'm as clear as mud. Satan has found out that I am the rightful heiress of the Dubarry manor, and he wishes to make me his wife in order to become master of the estate," the girl explained.
Sybil raised her eyes in surprise, then dropped them again upon the license, and repeated:
"So Satan wishes to wed you."
"You bet. And I never could imagine why a gentleman of his cultivated tastes should want me for a wife."
"Did he ever happen to see that marriage license?"
"Oh, yes, he has seen it and studied it. He told me it was an important document, and advised me to take good care of it."
"Then that is probably the way in which he discovered your right to the Dubarry estate."
"To be sure it was; for from the time he first saw that paper, he began to treat me with more respect and attention. And I do believe that was also the reason why he came down to this place."
While the girl spoke, Sybil was thinking hard and fast. Was the gentleman brigand the husband of Rosa Blondelle? Had he deliberately murdered his wife that he might marry this young gipsy heiress of the great Dubarry manor? But the girl would not let the lady reflect in peace for many minutes. She suddenly broke out with—
"I can't credit it. Not even in the face of the facts. What, a poor little beggarly wretch of a half-breed gipsy like me, the sole heiress of an old aristocratic manor? Stuff and nonsense! Even if I have a right to it, I shall never get it."
"Oh, yes, you will," said Sybil, confidently. "I never heard of a clearer case than yours, as you have stated it. You have only to prove three marriages, three births, and one identity. And as marriages and births are always registered in your country, there will be no difficulty in that."
"Ourmarriages and births were always registered for the same reason that this license was kept, that some of us might come into the family fortune sometime and be madea lady or a gentleman of. And it begins to look like I was going to be the lady."
"Well, but don't spoil your fortune by marrying Satan," said Sybil.
"Marry Satan? I'd see him in Pandemonium first!" exclaimed the little student of Milton.
"I'm glad to hear you say so! Keep to that, and get out of this den of thieves as soon as ever you can," added Sybil.
"Now, may Satan fly away with me if ever I desert my friends. They risked their necks to rescue me from want in Dover, and have provided for me like a princess. Ifthat'sthe way you good people requite kindness, I think I'll stick to my poor scamps. At least, I will never leave them, until I can give them each and all money enough to retire upon honestly."
"But you will have to leave them, before you can do that. You will have to live among law-abiding people, before you can get a lawyer to take up such a case as yours. I think, if ever I am free again, I would like to have you home with me; and I am sure my dear husband would take up your cause, as he has taken up that of many a poor client, without money, and without price."
Here the girl burst into such peals of laughter, that Sybil could but gaze on her in astonishment.
"Oh, you know, that is too good!" exclaimed Iska, as soon as she recovered from her mirthful paroxysm.
"What is too good?" inquired Sybil, slightly displeased.
"Oh, that you should invite me to your house, and recommend me to your husband's good offices! One would think that you had had enough of taking up stray women and flinging them at your husband's head!" exclaimed the girl, with another paroxysm of laughter.
Sybil turned pale, and remained silent for a few moments; then she said very gravely:
"Your gay rebuke may be a just one. I will think twice before I repeat the folly."
"And now I have lost a friend by my jest. I am always losing friends by jests," said Gentiliska, sadly.
"No, indeed you have not, poor child," exclaimed our magnanimous Sybil. "I might think once, or twice, but I should never think long without offering you a home in my heart and in my house. You are no saint, poor girl; but that you are an honest woman, with your antecedents and your surroundings, is as much to your credit, I think, as sanctity is to the most holy."
And the lady arose and kissed the little gipsy.
"That was good," sighed Gentiliska; "that is the first time I have ever been kissed since my poor mother died."
They were interrupted by the apparition of Proserpine, who glided into the inner cavern.
"What do you want?" demanded Gentiliska.
"Nothing. Breakfast has been ready this half-hour. We thought you were asleep, so we waited. But just now I heard you laughing. So I came in to tell you everything would be spoiled, if you didn't made haste and get ready."
"All right; we are ready. Put breakfast on the table directly," said Gentiliska.
The girl disappeared, and the two temporary companions, Sybil and Gentiliska, soon followed.
They found a comfortable breakfast laid out in the kitchen, and, as on the preceding morning, Sybil did justice to the delicacies set before her.
"Where are your companions?" she inquired of Gentiliska, not seeing any sign of the robbers' presence.
"I don't know. Where are the men, Hecate?" inquired the hostess, turning to the crone.
"Bless you, Missis, as soon as they got through with their supper, which they kept up until midnight, they one and all put on their gowns and masks, and started out on business."
"Business! Yes, that means stopping a stage-coach, or breaking into a house!" sneered the girl. "And they have not got back yet?" she inquired.
"Bless you, Missis, no! I sorter, kinder, think as they've gone a good distance this time."
Sybil said nothing; but she felt relieved, and grateful to be rid of those terrible men, even for a few hours.
When breakfast was over, Gentiliska said to Sybil:
"You must not suppose that I live entirely under ground, like a mole! No, indeed; every day when it is fine, I go to the surface. I get out on the roof. I walk on the mountain heights, 'where never foot fell,' except my own! I went out yesterday, and would have taken you; but that you were so dead asleep. Will you climb with me to-day?"
"With great pleasure," said Sybil.
"And while we go, we will take little baskets and some luncheon, and we will gather some nuts—there are so many on the mountain—walnuts, chestnuts, hickory-nuts, hazle-nuts, and chinkapins," added the young hostess, as they walked back to the sleeping cavern, where they began to prepare for their ramble.
"There, take that, and wrap yourself up warm. I wish it was nicer, but I haven't a choice of garments here, you know."
Sybil picked up the articles thrown her by her hostess, and saw, to her astonishment, that it was a priceless India shawl, belonging to her friend Miss Pendleton.
"This! this!" she exclaimed, indignantly; "do you know what this is?"
"It is an old shawl," replied the girl, contemptuously.
"Yes, it is an 'old shawl,' a rare old camel's hair shawl, worth thousands upon thousands of dollars, an heir loom of the Pendleton family, that has descended from generation to generation, until now it is the property of Miss Beatrix Pendleton. Oh, I am so sorry she has lost it."
"What, that old thing? I'm blessed if I didn't think it was a most uncommon coarse, thick, heavy old broche."
"It is a priceless India camel's hair shawl! Such a one as could not be bought in this century at any price. Oh. I wish she had it back!"
"Lor' bless you! she may have it back if she wants it! Why do you think they took it? For its value? They knew no more of its value than I did! No! they took it for its uses! They took it to tie up some of the silver plate in, because they hadn't sacks enough. You take it, and keep it! And when you have a chance, give it back to your friend. But for to-day, you had better give it an airing on your shoulders."
So exhorted, Sybil wrapped herself in the costly shawl, and followed her hostess through many labyrinths of the caverns, until they came out on a lonely height apparently yet untrodden by the foot of man.
It was a clear, bright December day. The morning, if sharp and cold, was fresh and invigorating.
They spent the middle of the day in rambling through the loneliest parts of the mountain fastnesses, and gathering treasure of many sorts of the sweetest nuts. The sun was sinking in the west when they turned their steps towards the caverns.
"The men will be sure to be home to supper. They never fail supper! And now we will be able to give them walnuts with their wine!" said Gentiliska, as they reëntered the labyrinth that led them from the mountain top to the caverns underneath.
Sybil's heart shrunk within her. To the delicate and conscientious, there is always an exquisite torture in the immediate contact of the coarse and reckless.
They reached the large cavern to find its walls brilliantly lighted up, and the supper table laid and well laden, as on the preceding evening.
"We will go to the sleeping cavern, and lay off our bonnets and shawls. Then we will be ready for supper. Fortunately we don't have to dress for the evening at our house!" laughed the girl, leading the way to the little cave.
When they had thrown off their wraps, they returned to the larger cavern to find it half full of the men. Supper was already on the table; and Satan, who was now in full evening dress, came forward and bowed to Sybil, and with much empressment led her to the place of honor at the board, and seated himself beside her.
Moloch took a stool immediately opposite the pair, where he could gaze at will upon the new beauty.
When all were seated the feast began. Satan gave his whole attention to Sybil, whom he treated with tender deference.
As the supper progressed and the wine passed around, the men, under the exhilarating influence, grew merry and talkative.
"Hope the beaks'll have a good time up at the old Haunted Chapel to-day! This is the second day they've been there looking for us! And oh! didn't they think they'd struck a rich lead when they found that swell Berners up there! They thought they had got his wife too, for certain! That's what's brought them back to-day! they know they can't find us there; but they hope to find her," said one of the robbers.
But his speech was not received with general favor. And when he stupidly pursued the theme, not understanding the menacing look of Satan, one of his companions dug an elbow in his side, and called out:
"Stow all that, you stupid donkey! Don't you see the lady you are talking about is at the table?"
The rebuke was almost as bad as the offense had been; but it had its effect in silencing the talkative offender.
But good-humor was soon restored. The walnuts wereplaced upon the table with the dessert, and many compliments were passed upon the pretty hands that had gathered them for the feast.
But just in the midst of their merry-making the whole party were startled by a tremendous explosion, that seemed to shake the mountain side.
All sprung to their feet, and stood gazing in amazement at each other until the echoes of the thunder died away. There was silence for a moment after, and then Moloch suddenly burst into a peal of laughter, in which he was soon joined by all his companions, with the exception of Satan, who sat frowning upon them.
"What is the meaning of this rudeness?" he sternly demanded.
"Oh, boss! don't you know? We are laughing at the beaks! They have blown themselves up in the old Haunted Chapel!" answered one of the party.
"Good Heaven! A wholesale murder! I was not prepared for that!" exclaimed the captain.
"A wholesale murder, or a wholesale accident, if you please, boss! but no murder. Nobody told them to take lights down into that vault, where there was gunpowder lying around loose! And if the trap was set for one meddler and caught a dozen, why, so much the better, I say! And I don't think it could a caught much less than a dozen, seeing as there were about fifteen or twenty men in the chapel when I spied it this afternoon from my cover in the woods on the mountain behind it, and I reckon there must a' been more than half of them killed."
"Hush!" said Satan; "don't you see that this lady is nearly fainting with terror?"
Sybil was indeed as white as a ghost, and on the very verge of swooning. But she managed to command nerve enough to ask:
"Was—can you tell me—was my husband in the chapel this afternoon?"
"Oh, no, ma'am!" answered the robber, who had immediately taken his cue from the glance of his captain's eye. "Oh, no, ma'am, I met him on his road to Blackville early this afternoon."
This was partly true, for the manhadreally seen Lyon Berners when he was walking along the river road to meet Joe. Sybil believed it to be wholly true, and uttered an exclamation of thankfulness.
The wine passed more freely, and the men grew merrier, wilder, and more uproarious. Sybil became very much alarmed; and not so much by the noisy orgies of these rude revellers, as by the dreadful gaze of Moloch fixed upon her from the opposite end of the table where he sat, and the offensive language of Satan's eyes whenever they turned towards her.
At length, unable to bear the trial longer, she arose from her seat, and courtesying to these brigands as she would have done to any set of gentlemen of whom she was taking leave, Sybil left the cavern, followed by Gentiliska.
"I must take you to another grotto. You cannot occupy mine to-night," said the girl, with evident reluctance.
"But, oh! why, why may I not stay with you? I am afraid to sleep alone in this terrible place!" pleaded Sybil.
"I have a reason, but I cannot tell it to you now. Yes, I will, too! I will tell you at all risks! Then it is this: My chamber is no longer safe for you! I myself am not strong enough to protect you! You might be carried off forcibly from my side! I must hide you where no devil may find you to-night!" whispered the girl.
"My blood curdles! Oh, help me if you can!" cried Sybil.
"I cannot help you! I can only hide you! I could perhaps save you from insult by sober men; but who shall save you from maniacs, mad with drink?"
"Yet you have always saved yourself! How have you managed to do so?"
"I have grown up among them, their child! That makes all the difference!"
"Oh, Heaven help me! Would I were dead!" cried Sybil, in an agony of terror.
"Oh, bosh! that's the cry of weakness! I've seen some hard times, but I never wished myself dead yet!" said the girl, as she led her guest through a labyrinth of small caverns until she reached one smaller and more remote than the others.
"Oh, do not leave me here alone!" pleaded Sybil. "If I must stay, stay with me! I do not fear death; but oh! I fear these men! Do not leave me!"
"I must, for your own safety. They must not miss me, or their suspicions will be aroused."
Then pointing to a bed of moss, and recommending her guest to lie down and seek repose, Gentiliska glided away through the labyrinth of caves and was lost to sight and hearing.
Sybil's first impulse was to start up and run after her hostess, but she restrained herself, and sank half fainting upon the heap of moss.
There was but a faint sparkling of light in the cave, coming from a crevice in the roof through which the moonlight entered, and glancing down, struck here and there upon the stalactites on the walls.
"Seek repose," had been the advice of Gentiliska.
Sybil dared not seek it if she could, and could not have found it if she had. She lay there with her eyes wide open, staring towards the entrance of the cavern, as if she feared the sudden apparition of some horrid shape. She lay there with every nerve strung up to the severest tension, and every faculty of mind and body on the alert. She scarcely breathed, but lay motionless, and watched and listened intently. Hour after hour passed in this stern tension of her frame, this trance-like stillness and silence,when at length she fancied she heard a creeping, stealthy step approaching. Nearly frozen with terror, she listened and watched more intently than ever. Alone, helpless, in darkness and solitude, what horrid fate must she meet! The creeping, cautious footstep drew nearer, nearer!
Oh, Heaven! it was no fancy! The entrance of the cavern was more deeply darkened for one moment, and then the huge form of Moloch stood within the cavern and nearly filled it up.
Paralyzed with horror, Sybil could neither move nor cry out—not even when the monster approached the bed and put his profane hand upon her face.
She never, never failed a friend,And never feared a foe.—Nicholl.
Help was at hand. There came a sound as of the rushing of tiny feet, and suddenly the little Skye terrier rushed into the cavern, and with joyous barks darted upon her mistress's bed; but instantly these barks of joy were changed into a howl of rage and pain, as she sprang at the throat of the robber, and closing her teeth upon his windpipe, hung there like "grim death."
With a yell of agony, the giant threw up his hands and seized the dog, to tear her off; but Nelly held fast. He might have torn her in two, but he could not have made her let go her hold upon his throat. He raised his huge fist to brain her.
"Don'thurt the dog," cried Sybil, starting up and seizing his arm; her palsy of terror dispelled by her love for her faithful little four-footed friend.
"Down, traitor and coward!" shouted another voice.
And all started and looked around to recognize the robber captain standing before them, with a pistol levelled straight at the head of his lieutenant.
"Call this brute off, then. She's cutting my throat with her cursed teeth. Call her off, I say, or I'll wring her in two, like a worm," gurgled the half-strangled monster, as he shook off the clasp of Sybil, and seized the little dog.
"Drop your hand, you villain, or I'll shoot you where you stand!" thundered the captain, cocking his pistol.
The bully instantly obeyed.
"Come, Nelly! dear Nelly!" called Sybil, sinking to a sitting posture on the side of her bed.
The obedient little terrier immediately let go her hold, and leaped down into her mistress' lap, and with barks of delight began to lick her hands and face.
Sybil, utterly overcome by the rapid events and conflicting emotions of the last few minutes, burst into a passion of tears, as she clasped the little creature to her bosom.
"Madam," said the robber captain—suddenly changing his whole manner as he turned towards the lady, took off his hat, and subdued his voice to its softest and smoothest tones—"Madam, I will relieve you of the presence of this ruffian; and to-morrow I will make such amends to you, for this insult, as may lie in my power."
Sybil did not and could not answer him. She only clasped her little dog closer to her heart and wept.
"And now, sir," said the captain, sternly, wheeling around upon his huge lieutenant, and pointing to the outlet of the grotto, "go before me out of this! This crime must be accounted for at another time and place."
The crestfallen monster slouched out of the cavern, followed by his captain, who turned once more, at leaving, to say:
"Rest in peace now, lady. You shall no more be disturbed. And I will send Gentiliska to stay with you."
"Oh thanks! thanks! do so! pray do so!" said Sybil, eagerly.
When she was left alone with her little dog, she fell to caressing and fondling her, as with all her heart and soul.
"Oh, Nelly! darling Nelly! what a little heroine you are! But how did you come here, Nelly?" she inquired, holding the little creature's curly head between her hands, and gazing down into its soft brown eyes. "How did you find me, Nelly?"
Nelly lapped her lady's cheek, and then jumped down and ran to the outlet of the cavern, and then ran back and jumped again into her lady's lap.
"Oh, yes, Nelly dear, I understand. You came that way and found me here. But that tells me nothing. How did you know I was here, little doggy?"
Poor little Skye terrier! She knew that a question was asked her, and she tried her best in her eloquent dumb way to answer it. And while she was jumping off and on her mistress' lap, and whining and caressing, the cavern door was darkened once more, and Gentiliska entered.
"Oh, I am so glad you have come! Be quiet, Nelly, darling; that's a girl, you know," exclaimed Sybil, speaking first to her visitor, and then to her little dog, who seemed inclined to make some hostile demonstrations against the supposed enemy.
"Why, what dog is that?" inquired Gentiliska, her mouth and eyes wide open with amazement.
"She ismydog, my dear, darling, devoted, brave little Nelly," replied Sybil, piling on the complimentary adjectives. And I leave it to any reader of mine if Nelly did not deserve them all.
"But—how on the face of the earth did she come here?" gasped Gentiliska.
"She didn't come on the face of the earth, but through the bowels of the earth. So she says, and I never knew her to tell a falsehood."
"But—how came she to trace you here?"
"Ah! that's just what I have been inquiring of her, and she has been trying to explain to me. You know these four-footed friends of ours have a good deal of difficulty in communicating with us—throughourstupidity, bless you, not theirs.Theycan understandusa great deal better thanwecan comprehendthem. Nelly knows very well what I ask her, and she answers my question; but I don't in the least understand whatshesays."
"But—when did she come? You know that."
"She came in the nick of time to fly at Moloch's throat and hold him till Satan came to deliver me."
Here the girl burst into a peal of laughter that almost offended Sybil, who gravely inquired:
"What is the matter?"
"I am laughing at your hallucination that Satan came to deliver you."
"What do you mean?" inquired Sybil, surprised and displeased at the girl's untimely mirth.
"Why, you goose," laughed Gentiliska, "don't you know, can't you see, that Satan is a hundred times worse and a thousand times more dangerous than Moloch? I tell you that Captain 'Inconnu' came to your cave on the same errand that brought his lieutenant here. Only, as he happened to be the last comer, and as he found the other here, he chose to take credit as your deliverer! Bosh! your little dog saved you. No other under Heaven did!"
"How do you know these facts?"
"By watching. You know when I left you?"
"Yes; go on."
"As I was returning to my own den, I saw a shadow pass before me, and then I knew that we had been tracked to this place, but whether by Satan or Moloch, or any other one of the band, I could not tell. By the time I had crept back to the entrance of the large cavern, the spy must haveregained his place, for they were all at the table as I had left them."
"Why then did you not return to me, since you knew that my place of concealment was discovered?" inquired Sybil, reproachfully.
"Because I could do you better service by staying outside and watching, which I did. About an hour ago, as I sat watching and listening in my own den, I heard a stealthy step, and peeping out, I saw the huge form of Moloch stealing towards your retreat. I stepped out silently, and stole softly after him, with the full intention of running back, giving the alarm, and raising the whole band, in case my suspicions should be true, that he intended to harm you. Of course I could not have helped you at all, if I had been in here with you. He wouldn't have let me pass out to have roused the men. He would have brained me on the spot, and had you at his mercy, do you see?"
"Yes, yes, I see. Oh, Heaven! deliver me from this dreadful place!" sighed Sybil.
"All in good time. I followed Moloch, until I saw him take the little turn that led to your den. Then I turned and fled, or was about to fly to rouse the men to your rescue, when I saw the graceful figure of Satan gliding towards me. As in that half-darkness I had recognized Moloch only by his huge form, so now I knew Satan only by his graceful, gliding motions. I drew back into a crevice of the rock, and waited until he had passed me and taken the same turn towards your den. And then I knew that you were quite safe. Either of these men alone would have been fatal to you; but together they were perfectly harmless. But just then I heard a dog bark, where never a dog had barked before. I stole after Satan towards the entrance of this place, and hid myself to listen to the fun. I heard the row. Oh, wasn't Captain 'Inconnu's' righteous indignation fine? At length I heard Satan order Moloch to leave the place, and then I heard him tell you that he would send me to stay with you. Then I thought it was about time for me to leave, and I stole away and fled as fast as I could towards my own den. And when I got there I covered myself up in my bed and feigned sleep, when the gallant captain came to call me. So here I am."
"Oh that Heaven would deliver me from this dreadful place!" repeated Sybil.
"All in good time, as I said before. And now I think you had better try to sleep. The little dog will watch us and give the alarm, in case any other daring marauder should venture to intrude on us," counselled the girl.
"Sleep! I have scarcely slept a whole night since I was forced to leave my home. Sleep! the best sleep I have had has been more like swooning, and has befallen me in the day-time. I cannot sleep."
"Well, then, please to be quiet while I sleep. I'm fagged out with all this," said Gentiliska, throwing herself down on the mossy floor of the cave, and settling herself comfortably to rest.
Meanwhile Sybil sat with her tired little dog lying on her lap. She was too wretched to think of resting, too anxious to think of anything but escape. Nothing that could happen to her in the outer world seemed so appalling as the dangers that surrounded her here. And while her companion slept soundly, Sybil racked her brain for means of escape.
People before now, chained in dungeons and weakened by imprisonment, have nevertheless contrived to burst their fetters and break through bolts and bars, and press through guards, and effect their freedom. And here was she, a captive certainly, but neither fettered nor locked up, nor guarded except by one sleeping girl. Why could she not make good her escape? What should hinder her, if only she knew how to find her way out of this labyrinth?
In her restlessness and distress, she groaned and lifted her hands to her head.
Her little dog immediately woke up, and in quick sympathy climbed up to her bosom, and whining, licked her face.
A sudden inspiration filled the soul of Sybil, and directed her course.
"If this poor little four-footed friend of mine, with nothing but her instinct and her affection to guide and sustain her, ifshecontrived to find me, hid away as I was from all human help, surelyI, with my higher intelligence and greater powers, should be able to find my way out of this labyrinth with her help."
Saying this to herself, Sybil tenderly caressed her little dog, then lifted it to her bosom, wrapped Beatrix Pendleton's camel's hair shawl closely around her, and went to the entrance of the cavern through which little Nelly had entered.
Here she paused for a moment to listen. All was silent except for the deep breathing of Gentiliska, that only proved how profound was the sleep of the girl.
Then she caressed her little dog again, saying in a low voice:
"Lyon, Nelly! Where isLyon?"
The little Skye terrier pricked up her ears and whimpered.
Then Sybil was sure that Nelly understood her words.
"Let us go findLyon, Nelly;Lyon! Lyon! Lyon!" said Sybil, setting the little dog down and harking her on by the way she had come.
Nelly remembered where she had left "Lyon," and so with a glad bark she leapt forward and ran on as fast as the tortuous nature of the dark subterranean passage would permit her to do; pausing now and then to rest herself, and to allow her mistress time to overtake her.
"Poor, dear little faithful Nelly! don't run so fast.You were tired almost to death when you came in from your first journey, and now you set out immediately on this the moment I ask you to do it; but abate your zeal, dear little friend, or you will not be able to hold out to the end," said Sybil, sitting down and caressing her little dog while they both rested.
When they re-commenced their journey, they found the passage growing narrower, darker, and more tortuous than before. They were compelled to move slowly and cautiously.
Sybil had already recognized the natural underground road by which she had been brought to the robber's cave; but she did not know this portion of it. So she supposed that she must have been brought through it while in that state of unconsciousness into which she had fallen from terror on first being seized by the masked and shrouded forms of the men who had carried her off. She therefore hoped that she was near the outlet of the subterranean passage.
But where that outlet might be, she could not guess. The last she remembered before falling into that swoon of horror, was the vault of the Haunted Chapel. The first she saw, on recovering herself, was the middle of the subterranean passage. But whether that passage had started from the vault, or whether the men had carried her any distance over the upper earth, before descending into it, she had no means of knowing or surmising. She must wait for the revelation at the end of this underground road.
The end was fast approaching. Far ahead, a little, dim dot of gray light kept dodging right and left before her eyes, following as it were the abrupt turning of the passage. It drew nearer, nearer, and now at last it was before her.
The little dog that had been trotting beside her mistress, now sprang past her and began to dig away at the hole with her paws.
Sybil stooped down, and peered through it. By the earlylight, of the now dawning day, she discerned a section of a foundation wall, that she felt sure must be a part of the old vault under the Haunted Chapel.
The little dog now jumped through the hole, and turned around and pawed and whimpered, as if inviting and expecting Sybil to follow her.
She understood the situation well enough now. She knew that this small hole was the entrance from the underground passage into the vault, and that it must have become partly filled up by the falling in of the bricks and mortar at the blowing up of the church. She went to work to try to remove the obstructions. It was a work of more time and toil than of real difficulty. With her delicate hands she began to take away the broken stones, timbers, and plaster, until she pulled out a short, narrow piece of plank, which she immediately began to use as a tool to dig away the refuse. A half an hour's hard work cleared her way into the vault. She passed in, and once more saw the dome of heaven above her head.
Little Nelly jumped around her with delighted barks, and then ran up the broken walls of the vault, and turned around and looked at her and barked, as if to say:
"This way! this way!"
But the irregularities in the dilapidated wall, that furnished a sure foothold for Nelly's little feet, would not serve her mistress's turn. So Sybil looked about the place, and cast around in her mind to consider how she should contrive to reach the upper ground. She soon saw the way, but she had to rest before she could commence a new work. So she sat down and called the dog to her, and both remained quiet for about ten minutes. And then Sybil arose and went to work, and piled up the bricks and stones, until she had raised for herself a rude stairway half up to the top. By these, at some little risk of life and limb, she climbed out of the vault, and found herself standing on the edge ofa heap of rubbish, which was all that remained of the old Haunted Chapel.
Here again she sat down to look around her. The sun was just rising from behind the mountain, and tinging all the wintry scene with the golden hues of autumn. Though it was a clear, cold, frosty morning, Sybil was perspiring from her late hard work, so she drew her heavy shawl around her shoulders to protect her from a chill while she rested. The little terrier, who had leaped up after her mistress, would not rest, but continued to jump about and bark, as if to testify her joy and triumph in a work accomplished. Every leap and bark said as plainly as tongue could have spoken the words:
"I have found her, and brought her back! I knew I could! I knew I could! I have done it at last! I have done it at last!"
"I know you have, Nelly dear, and I love you better than anybody in the world except Lyon! But now I want you to help me to find Lyon, Nelly!Lyon! Lyon!" said Sybil, holding the little terrier's face between her hands and gazing into its loving brown eyes.
Nelly jumped away at her bidding and ran all over the place snuffing zealously for some moments, and then finding herself clearly at fault, ran back and whimpered her disappointment on her mistress' lap.
"You have lost trace and scent of Lyon! Oh, Nelly! Nelly! what shall we do? Venture back boldly to Black Hall? Run right in the teeth of the law officers, and be snapped up by them?" sighed Sybil.
Nelly understood "a horror in the words, if not the words," and howled dismally.
Just at that moment a halting step was heard approaching, and a sad voice sighing:
"I sorter can't give her up! No, I can't! Ef she did bite me, it wa'n't outen malice to me, but outen dewotion tothe mistess—on'y to make me drap her down, so she could go back to dis vault and wait for her mistess, which I do expect she have starved to death by dis time! But I'll see. Nelly. Nelly!"
Sybil's heart leaped with joy at recognizing the voice of her faithful servant Joe. And Nelly jumped forward with a cry of delight to meet him.
"So you is here yet in dis supernumerary speer. Thank my Marster in Heaven for dat!" exclaimed Joe, stooping painfully, while he leaned upon his crutch, to lift the little dog to his bosom. "But who dat young o'man, Nelly?" continued Joe, whose eyesight was none of the best, pausing abruptly and staring at Sybil, who was completely disguised by the large India shawl and the red merino gown, both of which were entirely opposite to her usual style of dress.
Joe hobbled towards the supposed stranger cautiously.
"Don't you know me, dear old Joe?" inquired Sybil, dropping the shawl from her head and rising to her feet.
"Ah-h-h-ah!" yelled Joe in a prolonged howl of horror at what he took to be a ghost!
And then, as he could not run away, he dropped dog and crutch, fell flat upon his face and roared for mercy.
Sybil and her little dog both tried to soothe and reassure him—Sybil by repeating to him over and over again that she was alive and well, and that there was nothing whatever to fear at that moment; and little Nelly, by running around him and trying to poke her nose under his face to find a place to kiss or to lick.
But Joe for a time was perfectly inaccessible to reason; and Sybil, in discouragement, left him to recover himself alone, while she went and sat down at some distance to wait the issue of the event.
After a little while Joe slowly lifted up his head, and cautiously glanced around, whispering:
"Is she gone?"
"No," answered Sybil, sharply; "I am not gone! I am sitting here waiting for you to come to your senses!"
Joe, who after the first glimpse had not dared to look upon the ghost, now ventured from this safe distance to steal a glance. The glance grew into a gaze, and then he spoke:
"Miss Sybil—"
"Well, Joe?"
"Is it you?"
"Yes, it is I."
"But is you alibe?"
"Yes, I'm alive."
"Is you sure?"
"I am hungry and mad! That should make me sure."
"—Mad 'long o' me, Miss Sybil?"
"Yes; mad with you for being such a fool!"
"But I thought you was a ghostess!"
"Bosh! you haven't as much sense as little Nelly!" exclaimed Sybil, affecting more anger than she really felt.
"But an't you dead?" mysteriously inquired Joe, gazing at the pale face of his mistress, now very pale indeed through all that she had suffered. "An't you really dead, Miss Sybil?"
"Not much, Joe."
"But wan't you robbed and murdered by them riporate willains?"
"Neither the one nor the other, Joe! I am safe and sound, and have my money and jewels still about me."
"But—wan't you reducted?"
"I wasabducted, Joe; but not harmed! It is a long story, Joe. I cannot tell it now, because I want to know about my husband. Is he safe?"
"Yes, Miss Sybil, he's all right now! only grieving arter you! 'cause everybody beliebes as you perished in the blowing up of the old chapel. Lord! where was you all the time? Did Nelly find you?"
"Yes, Nelly found me; but—"
"Lord! the sense of that little thing!"
"—But tell me about my husband! Where is he!"
"He is at Capping Pendulum's, a doing very well now."
"Doing very wellnow! That means he has been doing badly lately! Has he been ill?" exclaimed Sybil, in breathless anxiety.
"No, Miss Sybil; but he was in the old Haunted Chapel when de debbil blowed it up."
"Oh, good heavens!" cried Sybil, clasping her hands, and unable to speak another word.
"Don't be scared! he wasn't hurt not to speak of; only stunned and bruised a bit. And he's all right now. On'y grievin' of hisse'f to death, which is perfec'ly nateral, you see. Goodness knows as I myse'f hasn't eat a meal's wittels, nor likewise sleeped a wink o' sleep, since gone you's been! And oh! how I thank my Heavenly Marster as has 'stored you to us once more alive and well!" cried Joe, hobbling towards Sybil, sinking at her feet, and giving way to his feelings in a burst of sobs and tears.
Sybil raised him up, and then noticed for the first time how lame he was.
"It's nothin' to speak on, Miss Sybil. On'y a sprained ankle. I can get on well enough with a crutch. And here I am as willin' andableto sarve you as ever," said the poor fellow, earnestly.
"Thanks, dear Joe! I want you, if you can, to go with me to my husband immediately."
"But, Miss Sybil, honey, you look so pale and weak and wore out. Better stay here while I go and get a conweyance."
"No, no, no, Joe! It would take you too long, and I cannot wait. I can walk," said Sybil, impatiently rising and drawing the shawl up over her head, for she had no hat or bonnet.
"Name o' de Lord, then come on, honey," replied Joe, who knew it would be useless to oppose his mistress when she was fully bent on any purpose.
They set out together, picking their way slowly over the heaps of rubbish that filled the churchyard and lay between them and the narrow path leading through the thicket to the river road.
Little Nelly followed faithfully at their heels.