She looked on many a face with vacant eye,On many a token without knowing what;She saw them watch her without asking why,And recked not who around her pillow sat.—Byron.
The warden unlocked the door and entered the cell, followed by the sheriff and Mr. Berners.
Sybil was dressed, but lying on the outside of her bed.
Beatrix was sitting beside her, engaged in some light needle-work.
"She is very feeble both in mind and body to-day," said Beatrix, in answer to an inquiring look of Mr. Berners, as she arose to give him her seat by the bedside.
"How are you this morning, love?" inquired Mr. Berners, tenderly taking her hand.
"Oh! I am better! Shall we go home to-morrow, Lyon?"
"If it please Providence, dear," answered her husband, putting a strong constraint upon himself. But he saw that though she had asked the question, she scarcely heard his answer; her attention had wandered from the point, and she was idly pulling the curly-haired ears of her little dog, who lay coiled up beside her.
Meanwhile Mr. Fortescue had shaken hands with Miss Pendleton, and was now saying:
"Beatrix, my child, you had better retire from this scene for a few moments."
"Why?" inquired Beatrix, looking her old neighbor firmly in the face.
"Because I have a very painful duty to perform, which will be very distressing to you to witness."
"What is it?" inquired Miss Pendleton, without removing her eyes from his face.
The sheriff stooped and told her in a whisper.
She turned pale as death, caught her breath, and leaned for an instant on the table near her. Then, with a supreme effort, she stood up and said:
"You have known me from my childhood. Do you think me such a dastard as to desert my friend in the hour of her utmost need? No, Mr. Fortescue; I will stand by Sybil to the last. So do your duty! Thank Heaven, you cannot hurt her much!"
"Thank Heaven indeed, if that is so, Beatrix," answered the sheriff, as he made a sign to Mr. Berners, and approached the bed with the death warrant in his hand.
"Sybil, darling," whispered her agonized husband, "here is Mr. Fortescue come to see you."
"Has he? that is kind," she answered, looking curiously at her own fingers, and then forgetting the presence of her visitors.
"How are you, Mrs. Berners?" inquired the sheriff.
"I am better. I am going home to-morrow, and then you must come and—" She broke off suddenly, and began to feel about with her fingers over the white counterpane.
"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the sheriff, looking up into Mr. Berner's face.
Lyon Berners gravely bent his head.
The sheriff hesitated, as if uncertain how to proceed.
Mr. Berners came to his side and whispered:
"If youmustread that document to her, be merciful and read itnow, when her mind is dulled to its meaning."
The sheriff nodded, and then said:
"Mrs. Berners, I have something to read to you. Can you listen?"
"Yes. Is it interesting?" inquired Sybil, rousing herself.
Without answering that last question, the sheriff prepared to read the awful instrument of doom. Lyon Berners sat down on the side of the bed, and drew his wife's head upon his bosom.
Miss Pendleton sat pale and still as a statue.
The old warden stood with his eyes bent upon the floor.
Sybil roused herself to listen, and she heard the first few lines of preamble addressed to the sheriff, but after that her attention wandered beyond control; and at the conclusion, she slightly smiled, and turning to her husband, said:
"Lyon, be sure to come early to-morrow. I want to go home in the cool of the morning."
"Yes, dear, I shall be here very early," answered Mr. Berners as steadily as he could speak, with his heart breaking.
Then laying her gently back on her pillow, he touched the sheriff on the shoulder and beckoned him to follow to the window.
"You see," said Mr. Berners, as they stood side by side, looking out.
"I see. I am very much shocked. This should be looked into. A medical examination should be made. Another appeal should be sent to the governor. Has Mr. Worth returned to Washington?"
"No; he has been waiting the issue of the petition to the governor."
"Then I advise you to see and consult him without loss of time. Do it now; this morning," urged the sheriff, as he took up his hat and gloves to leave the cell.
He went to Sybil's bedside to take leave of her.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Berners," he said, holding out his hand.
"Good-morning, Mr. Fortescue. Thanks for your call. When you come again—" she began smilingly, but lost the connection of her ideas, and with a look of distress and perplexity she sent her fingers straying over the counterpane, as if in search of something.
With a deep sigh the sheriff left the cell.
And at the same time Lyon Berners quietly kissed his wife, and withdrew.
Mr. Berners went at once to the hotel where Ishmael Worth lodged.
On inquiry at the office, he found that Mr. Worth was in his room. Without waiting to send up his name first, he desired to be immediately shown up to Mr. Worth's presence.
He found the young lawyer sitting at a table, deeply immersed in documents. He was about to apologize for his unceremonious intrusion, when Mr. Worth arose, and with grave courtesy and earnest sympathy, informed his visitor that he had already heard, with deep sorrow, the adverse decision of the governor.
Mr. Berners covered his face with his hand for a moment, and then sank into the chair placed for him by Mr. Worth.
As soon as he had recovered himself, he entered upon the subject of his visit—the insanity of Sybil, and the use that might be made of it in gaining a respite that should prolong her life for some months, until perhaps she might be permitted to die a natural death.
"Her state, as you represent it, gives me hopes of obtaining not only a respite, but a full pardon," said Ishmael Worth, when Mr. Berners had finished his account.
"I scarcely dared to hope as much as that," sighed Mr. Berners.
"I must speak now from the law's point of view. You and I believe that, sane or insane, Mrs. Berners never committed that murder. But the jury says she did. Now if she can be proved to be insane at this time, her present insanity will 'argue a foregone conclusion;' namely, that she was insane at the time she is said to have committed the crime; and if insane, then she was therefore irresponsible for her action, and unamenable to the laws. Let thisbe satisfactorily proved, and properly set before the governor, and I have little doubt that the result will be a full pardon."
"You give me hope, where I thought hope was impossible. If we can only obtain this pardon, and get my dear wife out of her horrible position, I will take her at once to some foreign country, where, far from all these ghastly associations, she may live in peace, and possibly recover her reason, and where she may have some little share of earthly happiness even yet," sighed Lyon Berners.
"And if it can be shown that there has been insanity in her family, it will make our argument much stronger. Has such ever been the case?" earnestly inquired Ishmael Worth.
"Ah, no! unless the most violent passions roused at times to the most ungovernable fury, and resulting in the most heinous deeds, can be called insanity, there is none in her family," said Mr. Berners sadly, shaking his head.
"That is also insanity certainly," said the philosophical Ishmael Worth, "but scarcely of the sort that could be brought forward in her favor."
"Nor is it the type of her present mental malady, which is very, very gentle."
"However, we have ground enough to go upon. Our case is very strong. We must lose no time. The first step to be taken will be to procure an order to have the lady examined by physicians competent to form a judgment, and make a report upon her condition. Their report must go up to the governor, with the petition for her pardon. And now, Mr. Berners, if you will go home and seek the rest you need, and leave this business in my hands, I will set about it immediately," said Ishmael Worth, kindly.
"Thank you! I thank you from my soul! I will confidently leave her fate in your hand. I know I could notleave it in any better under heaven! But, tell me, when shall I see you again?"
"To-morrow morning, after your visit to the prison, you can call here if you please, and I shall be able to report some progress," said Mr. Worth, rising from his chair.
Lyon Berners then shook hands with him, and left the room.
Not to go home and rest, as he had been advised; there was no rest for Sybil's husband; there could be none now; he went to wander around and around her prison walls until the day declined and the sky darkened, and then indeed he turned his steps homeward, walking all the way to Black Hall, because in his mental excitement he could not sit still in carriage or saddle. There he passed the night in sleeplessness and horror. Imagination, favored by the darkness, the stillness, and the loneliness of the scene, conjured up all the ghastly spectres of the future, impending tragedies, and nearly drove him into frenzy. He started up from his bed and walked out into the summer night under the shining stars, and wandered up and down the wooded banks of the river until morning.
Then he returned to the house, and after a hasty breakfast, which for him consisted only of a cup of very strong coffee, he set out for Blackville.
He reached the prison before its doors were open to visitors, and he waited until he could be admitted. He found Sybil placid, peaceful, and unconscious of imprisonment and deadly peril of her life, as she had ever been. He spent an hour with her, and then he went to the hotel to see Mr. Worth.
He found the young lawyer in good spirits.
"I have made much progress, Mr. Berners. I succeeded in procuring the order for the medical examination. It is appointed for to-morrow at ten o'clock. Dr. Bright, Dr. Hart, and Dr. Wiseman are the physicians authorized tomake it. They have all been notified, and are to meet at the prison at the hour specified," said Ishmael Worth, as he shook hands with his visitor and offered him a chair.
Lyon Berners warmly expressed his thanks, and sank into the seat.
"You look very ill, Mr. Berners; you look as if you had not slept for many nights. That will not do. Let me be your physician for once, as well as your lawyer. Let me advise you to take opium at night. Youmustsleep, you see."
"Thanks; but I think my malady beyond the help of medicine, Mr. Worth, unless it were something that should send me into the eternal sleep," said Lyon Berners, mournfully.
"Come, come; take courage! We have every reason to believe that this medical examination will result in such a report as, sent up to the governor with the new petition, will insure her release. And then you will carry out your purpose of going with her to some foreign country. Gay France, beautiful Italy, classic Greece, good old England, are all before you where to choose," said Ishmael Worth, cheerfully.
Then they spoke of the three physicians who were to conduct the examination: Dr. Bright, who had once had charge of the State Insane Asylum, but who had recently retired to his plantation in this neighborhood; Dr. Hart, who was the oldest and most skilful practitioner in the county, having attended more families, and first introduced more children to their friends and relations, than any other man in the place; and lastly, Dr. Wiseman, the village druggist, who had taken his degree, and was also physician to the county prison.
"Dr. Hart has attended Sybil's family for nearly half a century; he has known Sybil from her earliest infancy; his visit will not alarm her, though, for that matter, nothingalarms her now, not even—" He did not finish the sentence; he could not bear to utter the words that would have completed it.
Soon after he arose and took his leave. And he passed the day and night as he had passed the last and many previous days and nights.
Alas how is it with you?That you do bend your eyes on vacancy.And——Shakespeare.
The next morning he was early as usual at the prison, and as usual he had to wait until the doors were opened.
The news of the impending medical examination of the prisoner had been conveyed to the warden on the preceding afternoon. The prisoner and her companion had been notified of it this morning, so that when Lyon Berners was admitted to the cell he found the place in perfect order, and Sybil and Beatrix carefully dressed as if for company.
"See! we are all ready to receive our visitors, Lyon. And oh! I am so glad to be at home again, and to give a dinner party! Like old times! Before we went on our wedding tour, Lyon!"
These were the first words Sybil addressed to her husband, as he entered the room.
Lyon Berners drew her to his bosom, pressed a kiss on her lips, and then signed to Miss Pendleton to follow him to the window.
"What does all this mean, dearest Beatrix?" he inquired.
"If means that her insanity is increasing. She awokethis morning, perhaps with some dream of home still lingering in her mind; at all events, with the impression that she was at Black Hall. I have not combated the pleasant delusion; indeed I have rather fostered it."
"You were right, dear friend. You know of this intended visit of the physicians?"
"Oh, yes; and so does she, only she fancies that they are to be her guests at a dinner party."
As Beatrix thus spoke, there was a sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor, and the cell door was again opened to admit Dr. Hart.
The good physician shook hands with Mr. Berners, who stood nearest the door, and whispering hastily:
"I wish to speak with you apart presently," he passed on to meet Sybil, who, with the courtesy of a hostess, was coming forward to welcome him.
He shook hands with her pleasantly, and inquired after her health.
"Oh, thanks! I am very well since I got home. I took cold. Where did I take cold?" she said, with an air of perplexity, as she passed her thin white hand through her silken black tresses.
"You have been travelling, then?" said the doctor, to try her memory.
"Yes; travelling."
"And saw many interesting sights, no doubt?"
"I—yes; there were caves—the Mammoth Cave, you see; and ships in the harbor; and—and—" A look of doubt and pain passed over her, and she became silent.
"And many, many more attractive or instructive objects met your sight, no doubt?"
"Yes; we were in England just before the Conquest, and I saw Harold the Saxon and Edith the Fair. But 'Fair' was 'foul' then—so foul that the Spirit of Fire consumed her. Oh!—"
She paused, and an expression of horrible anguish convulsed her beautiful face.
"But you are at home now, my child," said the doctor soothingly, laying his hand upon her head.
"Oh, yes," she answered, with a sigh of deep relief as her countenance cleared up; "at home now, thank Heaven! And oh, it is so good to be at home, and to see my friends once more. And then again, you know—"
Whatever she was going to say was lost in the chaos of her mind. She sighed wearily enough now, and relapsed into profound reverie.
The doctor took advantage of her abstraction to leave her side, and beckon to Mr. Berners to follow him to the farthest corner of the cell, so as to be out of hearing of the two ladies.
"What do you think of her case?" anxiously inquired. Sybil's husband, as soon as he found himself apart with the physician.
"She is deranged of course. Any child could tell you that. But, Mr. Berners, I called you apart to tell you that myself and my colleagues, Bright and Wiseman, determined to visit our patient singly, and to make a separate examination of her. Now, for certain reasons, and among them, because I am a family practitioner, we all agreed that I should pay her the first visit. And now, Mr. Berners, I must ask you to go and find out if there is an experienced matron about the house; and if so, to bring her here immediately."
Lyon Berners bowed and went out, but soon returned with the warden's widowed daughter.
"Here is Mrs. Mossop, doctor," he said, introducing the matron.
"How do you do, madam? And now, Mr. Berners, I must further request that you will take Miss Pendleton out and leave Mrs. Mossop and myself alone with our patient," said the doctor.
Mr. Berners gave Miss Pendleton his arm and led her from the room.
One of the under-turnkeys locked the door and stood on guard before it.
Mr. Berners and Miss Pendleton walked up and down the corridor in restless anxiety.
"My brother was here to see me yesterday afternoon, Lyon," she said.
But Mr. Berners, absorbed in anxiety for his wife, scarcely heard the young lady's words, and certainly did not reply to them.
But Beatrix had something else to say to him, and so she said it:
"Lyon, if you should succeed in getting Sybil's pardon, (pardon for the crime she never committed!) and should decide to take her to Europe, do you know what Clement and myself have determined to do?"
"No," said Mr. Berners, with a weary sigh.
"We have decided to go abroad with you and share your fate; whether we go for a year or two of pleasant travelling and sight-seeing, or whether we go into perpetual exile."
Lyon Berners, who had been almost rudely indifferent to the young lady's words until this moment, now turned and looked at her with astonishment, admiration, and gratitude, all blended in the expression of his fine countenance.
"Beatrix! No! I appreciate your magnanimity! And I thank you even as much as I wonder at you! But you must not make this sacrifice for us," he said.
Miss Pendleton burst into tears.
"Oh!" she said amid her sobs; "there can be nothing in the world so precious to us as our childhood's friendships! Clement and I have played with Sybil and you since we were able to go alone! We have no parents, nor sisters, nor brothers, to bind us to our home. We have only our childhood's friends that have grown up with us—you and Sybil.Clement will resign his commission in the army; he does not need it, you know, any more than his country now needs him; and we will let the old manor house, and go abroad with you!"
"But, dear Beatrix, to expatriate yourselves for us!"
"Oh, nonsense!" she said, brushing the bright tears from her blooming face. "You are trying to make this out an act of generosity on our part. It is no such thing. It is a piece of selfishness in us. It will be a very pleasant thing, let me tell you, to go to Europe, and travel about and see all the old historic countries, for a year or so."
"A year or so! Oh, Beatrix! it will not be a year or so, of pleasant travelling! It will be the exile of a lifetime!"
"I don't believe it! I have more faith than that! I believe that
'Ever the right comes uppermost,And ever is justice done;'
sooner or later, you know! And anyhow Clement and myself have resolved to go abroad with you and Sybil! And you cannot prevent us, Mr. Berners!"
"I am very glad that I cannot; for if I could, Beatrix, I should feel bound by conscience to do it."
"Set your conscience at rest, Mr. Berners! It has nothing to do with other people's deeds!"
"But, dear Beatrix, you are reckoning without your host, Destiny, which now means the report of the medical examiners and the action of the governor upon it! She may not be free to go to Europe."
"I think she will," said Beatrix, cheerfully.
At that moment there was a knock from the inside of the cell.
The turnkey unlocked the door.
Dr. Hart came out alone, and the door was locked after him.
Mr. Berners left the side of Beatrix, and went to meet the physician.
"Well?" inquired Sybil's husband.
"My dear sir, hope for the best. She has yet to be visited by my colleague, Dr. Bright, late of the State Insane Asylum. He is, of course, an expert in cases of insanity. His report will have more weight than mine in regard to her case. But I tell you this in confidence. I ought really not to give any sort of opinion to any one at this point of the investigation."
And with a friendly shaking of hands and a polite bow, Dr. Hart went below.
A few minutes passed, and Dr. Bright, who was a stranger to Mr. Berners, came up and passed to the door of the cell, which was opened for him by the turnkey in attendance.
The "mad doctor," as he was popularly called, remained more than an hour shut up with his patient.
At length he came out, bowed to the lady and gentleman that he saw waiting in the corridor, and went down stairs.
Mr. Berners would have given much for the privilege of questioning the "mad doctor;" but as such a privilege could not be obtained at any price, he was forced to bear his suspense as well as he could.
In a few moments Dr. Bright was succeeded by Dr. Wiseman, the least important of the three medical examiners.
He saw Mr. Berners, came right up to him and grasped his two hands with both his own, and with the tears springing to his eyes, exclaimed:
"I hope to heaven our examination of this lady may eventuate in her release from captivity."
There was something in the delicacy of the physician's words, as well as in the earnestness of his manner, that deeply affected Sybil's husband. He pressed the young doctor's hands as he replied:
"I thank you very much for your earnest sympathy;and I need not say how devoutly I join in your prayer that this investigation may terminate in the release of my dear and most innocent wife."
The physician then passed into the cell, which was opened for his admittance, and then closed as before.
A half hour went by, and he came out again.
"I do not know what conclusion my colleagues have come to, Mr. Berners; but for myself, I do not think this lady is, or has been for some time, a responsible agent," he said, in passing Sybil's anxious husband.
"You hold your consultation immediately?" inquired Mr. Berners.
"Yes, immediately, in the warden's private parlor, which Mr. Martin offered for our use," answered Dr. Wiseman, as he bowed and went down stairs.
Mr. Berners and Miss Pendleton were then permitted to return to Sybil's cell, to remain with her while waiting the result of the physicians' consultation.
They found Sybil so fatigued from the visits that had been made her, that she lay quite still and almost stupefied upon her bed.
Mrs. Mossop was watching by her side; but at the entrance of Mr. Berners and Miss Pendleton she arose and left the cell.
Lyon went to the bedside of his wife, and asked how she felt.
"Tired."
This was the only word she spoke, as with a heavy sigh she turned her face to the wall.
Lyon and Beatrix sat with her all the afternoon, and even until the warden came to the door with the information that the physicians had concluded their consultation, and were about to leave the prison, and that Mr. Worth was below, waiting to see Mr. Berners.
——'Tis late beforeThe brave despair.—Thompson.
Lyon then took an affectionate leave of his half-conscious wife, shook hands with Miss Pendleton, and with a heart full of anxiety went down stairs.
He met Ishmael Worth coming out of the warden's office.
"The physicians have gone," said the young lawyer, after greeting Mr. Berners—"just gone; but they have left a copy of their report, the original of which they will have to deliver under oath. That original document will have to go with the petition to the governor, which I myself will take up to Richmond to-morrow."
"Thanks! thanks!" exclaimed Mr. Berners, pressing the young lawyer's hand with deep emotion.
"And now, shall we adjourn to my chambers and examine this report?"
"Yes, if you please! But can you not give me some idea of its character?"
"It is favorable to our views. That is all I know. We can soon make ourselves acquainted with the whole matter, however," said Ishmael Worth, as they left the prison and walked rapidly off in the direction of the village.
As soon as they were both closeted together in Mr. Worth's chamber, with the door closed and locked to keep off intruders, the young lawyer broke the seal of the envelope, and they examined the report together.
But ah! that report, though favorable to the prolongation of Sybil's life, was not conducive to its preservation.
The physicians reported the imprisoned lady as havingbeen carefully examined by themselves and found to be insane. But they gave it as their unanimous opinion that her insanity was not constitutional or hereditary: that it was not of long standing, or of a permanent character; that, in fine, it was the effect of the terrible events of the last few months acting upon a singularly nervous and excitable organization, rendered even more susceptible by her present condition, which was that of pregnancy.
At this word Lyon Berners started, threw his hands to his head, and uttered a cry of insupportable anguish.
Ishmael Worth laid his hand soothingly, restrainingly upon him, saying:
"Be patient! Even this circumstance, sad as it seems, may save her life. We do not 'cut down the tree with blossoms on it.' This report, as I said, must go up with the petition to the governor. The petition prays for her full pardon on the grounds set forth in this report. The governor may or may not grant the full pardon; but if he does not, hemustgrant her a respite until after the birth of her child. Thus her life is sure to be prolonged, and may, probablywill, be saved. For if the governor does not pardon her, still in the long interval afforded by the respite, we may, with the help of Providence, be able to discover the real criminal in this case, and bring him to justice; and thus vindicate her fame, as well as save her life."
"You give me hope and courage; you always do," answered Lyon Berners, gratefully.
"I only remind you of what you yourself know to be facts and probabilities; and would recognize as such, but for the excitement and confusion of your mind. And now, do you know what I mean to do?"
Mr. Berners gravely shook his head.
"I mean to leave for Richmond by to-night's stage-coach, taking with me the original attested medical report and the petition for her pardon. I mean to travel day and night,so as to lay the documents before the governor at the earliest possible moment. And as soon as he shall have acted upon them I shall leave Richmond for this place, travelling day and night until I bring you her pardon or her respite."
"How shall I thank you? What words can express how much—" began Mr. Berners, with emotion; but Ishmael Worth scarcely heard him. He had stepped across the room and touched the bell-pull.
"Send my attendant here," he said to the waiter who appeared at the door.
A few moments elapsed, and a venerable old negro man of stately form and fine features, with a snow-white head and beard, and dressed quite like a gentleman—a sort of an ideal Roman senator carved in ebony, entered the room, bowed, and stood waiting.
"Be so kind as to pack my portmanteau, professor. I go to Richmond by the nights coach."
The "professor" bowed again, and then respectfully inquired:
"Do I attend you, sir?"
"No, professor. I must travel day and night without stopping. Such haste would be too harassing to a man of your age."
The old servitor bowed, and withdrew to obey.
"He," said Ishmael Worth, pointing affectionately to the retreating form of the professor, "is not only my faithful attendant, but my oldest and most esteemed friend."
"He is happy in possessing your esteem and friendship, Mr. Worth, and no doubt he deserves both," said Lyon Berners.
"He deserves much more," murmured Ishmael softly, with one of the old, sweet, thoughtful smiles shining in his eyes.
Then Mr. Berners, who would have liked to linger longer near this sympathizing friend, who was working so zealouslyin the almost hopeless cause of his imprisoned wife, saw that the young lawyer had many preparations to make for his sudden journey, and but little time to make them in; and so he arose and shook hands with Ishmael Worth, and bade him God-speed in his humane errand, and left the room.
Mr. Berners returned to his most desolate home; took, by his physician's advice a powerful narcotic, and slept the sleep of utter oblivion, and waked late on the next morning more refreshed than he had felt for many weeks past.
He visited his wife as usual, and found her in the same quiescent state of mind and body and still utterly unconscious of her situation, utterly ignorant that within a few days past the dread death warrant had been read to her, which doomed her young life to die in the beautiful month of June, now so near at hand—in the blooming month of roses, her favorite of all the twelve.
Yes, the death warrant had been duly read to her, but not one word of it all had she understood; and that was all that had been done to inform her of her real situation. If it was any one's duty to impress the truth upon her mind, provided her mind could be made capable of receiving the impression, every one shrunk from it, and prayed that to the last she might never know more of her condition than she now did.
As for the rest—the preparation of her soul to meet her Judge—what would have been the use of talking, about salvation to a poor young creature driven to insanity by the horrors of a false accusation and an unjust conviction?
The best Christians, as well as her nearest friends, were willing to leave her soul to the mercy of Heaven.
She was even unsuspicious that she was destined to be a mother.
This circumstance, that so deepened the pathos and terror of her position, also invested her with a more profound and pathetic interest in the eyes of her husband.
Would she live to bring forth her child, even though the governor did spare her life so long? he asked himself, as he gazed fondly on her pale face and sunken eyes.
Would the child—perhaps destined to be born in the prison—live to leave it? And then, what must happen to the mother? And what must be the after life for the child?
And fondly as he loved, he earnestly prayed that both mother and child might die in the impending travail unless—unless the new petition sent up to the governor, and grounded upon the report of the physicians, should get her a full pardon.
Four days of the keenest anxiety crept slowly by.
There was no possible means of hearing how Ishmael Worth prospered in his mission to the governor.
There were but two mails a week from Richmond to Blackville.
Ishmael Worth would go and come with all possible speed, for he must be his own messenger.
It was on the morning of the fifth day, since the young lawyer departed on his humane errand.
Lyon Berners was making his usual morning visit to his wife in her cell.
She was sitting as placidly unconscious of danger as usual, in her harmless hallucination, playing with her little dog, which was coiled up on her lap.
Beatrix Pendleton, who had scarcely left Sybil for an hour since her imprisonment, sat gravely and quietly near, engaged as usual upon some little trifle of needle-work.
And Lyon Berners sat purposely with his back to the light to shade his face, and hide the uncontrollable agitation of his countenance, as he gazed upon his doomed wife, and shuddered to think of the awful issues at stake in the success or failure of Ishmael Worth's mission.
Should this second petition be more fortunate than the firstone, and should Mr. Worth succeed in obtaining for her a full pardon, Sybil might go forth this very day a free woman, and her husband might take her far away from these scenes of suffering to some fair foreign land, where she might recover her reason and her peace of mind.
Should Mr. Worth fail in obtaining a full pardon, but succeed in gaining a respite, Sybil would be permitted to live, if she could, long enough to bring forth her child, and then her own forfeited life must be yielded up.
But should her advocate fail also to obtain the respite, Sybil had just one week to live; for on the seventh day from this, she was ordered for death!
And she, shielded by a mild and merciful insanity, was so peacefully unconscious of impending doom!
But to-day he knew that he must hear the best or the worst that could befall her; for to-day the Richmond coach would arrive, and would bring her zealous advocate, Ishmael Worth.
And even while he sat thus gazing with his grief-dimmed eyes upon his fated young wife, the sound of approaching footsteps was heard; the cell door was unlocked, and the warden presented himself, saying in a low tone:
"Mr. Worth has just arrived, and wishes to see you down stairs in my office, sir."
Before the warden had finished his sentence, Lyon Berners had started up and sprung past him.
He hurried down the stairs, threw open the door of the warden's office and confronted Ishmael Worth, who, pale, weary, travel-stained, and troubled, stood before him.
"For Heaven's sake!" cried Sybil's husband, breathlessly—"speak! what news? Is it to bedeath,—or—LIFE!"
Even through the hollow eye of DeathI spy Life peering; but I dare not sayHow near the tidings of our comfort is.—Shakespeare.
"Life, or death?" cried Lyon Berners, pallid with intense anxiety.
"It is a respite," answered Ishmael Worth, gravely and kindly, taking the arm of the agitated man and gently leading him towards a chair.
"Only that!" groaned Lyon Berners, as he dropped heavily into the offered seat.
"But that is much," soothingly began Ishmael Worth, "very much, for it is an earnest of—"
"How long?" moaned Mr. Berners, interrupting his companion.
"During the pleasure of the governor. No new day has been appointed for her—death!" added the young lawyer, in a low voice and after a short pause, for he could not bear to utter the other awful word of doom.
"Go on!" said Sybil's husband, still violently shaken by his emotions.
Ishmael Worth arose from the seat into which he had sunk for a moment, and he laid his hand on the shoulder of the suffering man and said:
"Try to calm the perturbation of your spirits, Mr. Berners, so that you can hear and comprehend what I am about to communicate to you."
"I will."
"Listen, then. You are aware that the respite, for an indefinite period, of any condemned person, is almost always the prelude to the full pardon."
"Yes."
"Mrs. Berners has a respite for an indefinite period. I consider that respite an earnest of her full pardon. You do not doubt my sincerity in saying this?"
"No."
"Listen yet longer. As no new day has been set for her death, so I think no further action will be taken in the matter until after the birth of her child—and some considerable time after that event. And then, I think, a full pardon will be granted her."
"'Hope deferred!'" began Mr. Berners, with a deep sigh.
"Yes, I know," said Ishmael Worth, with a grave smile; "but hear me out."
"I am listening."
"I had several interviews with the governor, and though he was very reserved in communicating his sentiments, I perceived that he really wished to pardon his petitioner."
"Then why, in the name of Heaven, did he not do so?" demanded Mr. Berners, starting up from his seat.
"Be calm and I will tell you," said Ishmael Worth, gently drawing him down into the chair.
Again Lyon Berners dropped into it with a deep groan.
"If it were not that trouble has so disturbed the clearness of your mind, you would yourself see that men in authority cannot do these things so suddenly. I repeat that I perceived that the governor would gladly have granted the pardon immediately upon the presentation of the petition, founded as it was upon such strong grounds, and he was only deterred from doing so by the fact that at the present point of time such a pardon would be a very unpopular measure."
"That a lady's innocent life should fall a sacrifice to a politician's selfish love of popularity!" bitterly commented Lyon Berners.
Ishmael Worth was silent for a moment, because he feltthe injustice of Lyon Berners' remarks, yet did not wish to rebuke them, and then he said, deprecatingly:
"I do not think the governor's course here was directed by any selfish policy. He feels that he must be guided in a great degree by the will of the people, who are now most unjustly certainly, but most violently set against Mrs. Berners. So he sends down the respite, to which, under the peculiar circumstances, no one can object, and sends it as a prelude to the pardon which I believe will certainly follow when the popular excitement has had time to subside."
"Heaven grant it may be so," fervently prayed Lyon Berners.
"And now," said Ishmael Worth, drawing from his breast pocket a sealed parcel directed to the sheriff of the county, "I must take this document to Mr. Fortescue at once."
"I will not detain you, then. A thousand thanks for your kindness! I pray Heaven that some day I may be able to return it," fervently exclaimed Lyon Berners, rising from his chair.
Ishmael Worth took his hand and held it while he looked earnestly in his face, and said:
"You have every good reason now to hope for the best; so much reason not only to hope, but to feel assured of her release, that I should counsel you to begin at once your preparations to leave the country, so as to be able to start on your voyage with her immediately after the pardon arrives."
"Thanks for your words of comfort! Thanks for your counsel! I always leave your presence, Mr. Worth, with new life!" warmly exclaimed Lyon Berners, cordially grasping and shaking the hands that held his own.
Then Ishmael Worth took leave and went away.
Lyon Berners returned to the cell of his wife. He was admitted by the turnkey in attendance.
He found Sybil fast asleep, on the outside of her bed. Beatrix was sitting by her, strumming low, soft notes on the guitar as an accompaniment to a soothing air that she was singing.
"What news?" exclaimed the young lady in half-suppressed eagerness.
"There is a respite for an indefinite period, that Mr. Worth thinks is a certain prelude to a future pardon," answered Mr. Berners, seating himself beside his wife's bedside.
"Thank Heaven!" fervently exclaimed Beatrix. "But why not the full pardon at once?"
Mr. Berners explained the reasons for the delay.
"The people are even more cruel and unjust than the law! But still—oh! thank Heaven for so much hope and comfort as we have!" she said.
"Mr. Worth feels so sure of the pardon, that he advises me to make all necessary preparations, so as to be able to leave the country immediately upon my wife's liberation," added Mr. Berners.
"That will be glorious! Oh! do you know that advice seems so practical that it gives me more confidence than anything else which has been said?" exclaimed Miss Pendleton, eagerly. "I will tell Clement to begin to get ready at once! For you know we are set to go with you!"
"God bless you!" was the only response of Lyon Berners. Then he inquired, "How did my dear wife happen to fall asleep at this hour?"
"She laid down to rest. Then I took the guitar and sang to her and she fell asleep like an infant."
At that moment Sybil awoke with a smile, and greeted her husband pleasantly.
He stooped and kissed her; but said nothing of the respite, because she was still happily unconscious of any necessity for such a thing. Neither did he speak of the possible voyage to Europe; deeming it premature to mention such a hope yet, lest she should, in her innocent ignorance of her real position, chatter of it to her visitors, and so do her cause harm.
He staid with her until the prison regulations for closing the doors at six o'clock in the afternoon, obliged him to take leave and depart.
Then he went home in a more hopeful frame of mind than he had enjoyed for many weeks.
The summer was slipping swiftly away.
Since the arrival of her respite for so long and indefinite a period, it had been deemed proper by the warden to accord to his charge many valuable privileges that she had not enjoyed, nor indeed, in her unconsciousness of her real situation and indifference to all external circumstances, had not missed in her imprisonment.
She was now permitted to walk in the shaded grounds and blooming gardens within the walled inclosure around the prison.
Here, through the influence of fresh air and gentle exercise, her physical health improved very much, though her mental malady remained unmodified.
Here, also, some members of her household from Black Hall, were admitted to see her.
Hitherto Miss Tabby, Raphael, and even little Cromartie had been carefully excluded from her presence, lest the violent emotion of the woman and the youth, or the innocent prattle of the child, should suddenly strike
"The electric chord wherewith we are darkly bound,"
and shock her into a full consciousness of the awful position which her friends were now more than ever anxious to conceal from her knowledge. For they argued, if only this mist of insanity could be kept around her for a little while longer, until the hoped-for pardon should come, then sheneed never know that she had been the inmate of a prison or stood within the shadow of the scaffold.
It was the opinion of her physician, and the fear of her friends, that her reason would return with the birth of her child; and they prayed that it might not do so until she should be free from the prison.
And so they had guarded her from all associations that might suddenly bring back her memory and her understanding; and therefore had denied the visits of her faithful and afflicted servants andprotégésfrom Black Hall.
Now, however, after she had been some weeks enjoying the privilege of daily exercise in the fresh air of the grounds, and her health had gained so much, her harmless hallucination began to take a pleasing and favorable turn.
She now knew that she was going to be a mother; and she fancied that she was staying at some pleasant place of summer resort for the benefit of her health, and that Beatrix Pendleton was also one of the guests of the house; and that Lyon Berners was only an occasional visitor because the duties of his profession confined him the greater part of the time at Blackville.
It happened one morning, when Sybil was taking her usual exercise in the garden, attended by her husband and her friend, she suddenly turned to Mr. Berners and said:
"Lyon dear, I want to see Tabby and Joe. The next time you come to see me, I wish you would bring them with you."
"I will do so, dear Sybil. Is there any one else you would like to see?" inquired her husband, who deemed now that, with proper precautions, her friends from Blackville might be permitted to see her.
"No, no one else particularly," she answered.
"Are you sure?"
"Why, yes, Lyon, dear; I am sure I do not care to see anybody else especially. Why, who is there indeed, that Ishould care for at Black Hall, except my own faithful servants?" she asked, a little impatiently. She had never once, since her imprisonment, mentioned the name of Raphael or little Cromartie. She had apparently forgotten them, as well as all other persons and circumstances immediately connected with the tragedy at Black Hall and the trial at Blackville.
And Mr. Berners would not venture to remind her of their existence.
"Very well, dearest, I will bring your friends to see you to-morrow," said Mr. Berners soothingly.