So do the dark in soul expire,Or live like scorpion girt with fire;So writhes the mind remorse hath riven—Unfit for earth, undoomed for heaven,Darkness above, despair beneath,Around it flame, within it death.—Byron.
The awe-stricken women drew nearer to gaze upon the murdered man.
"Grandma, he is not dead! He breathes," exclaimed Gem, whose young eyes had detected the slight, very slight motion of the man's chest.
The old woman knelt down beside the body, and began to examine it more closely. The shirt-bosom, vest, and coat front were soaked with blood, that still seemed to ooze from some hidden wound.
She hastily unbuttoned his clothing, and found a small round blackened bullet hole over the region of the left lung.
"Turn him over on his left side, men," she said, half rising from her knee.
As they followed her directions, the blood flowed freely both from the wound and from the mouth of the man.
"Joe, mount Fleetfoot and gallop to Blackville as fast as you can go, and bring Dr. Hart, though I don't believe it will be a bit of use; but still it is our duty. And, Tabby, and Libby, stop wringing of your hands and rolling of your eyes, and go up stairs and fetch down the cot bedstead to lay him on, for it stands to reason we can't carry him up-stairs without hastening of his end," said the old woman, as she busied herself with stanching the wound in the chest.
All her orders were immediately obeyed.
The cot bed was made up in the corner of the room, and the wounded man was tenderly raised by the two laborers, and laid upon it.
"Now stand out of my way, all of you, and don't ask any questions, but be ready to fly, the minute I tell you to do anything," said the dame, as she stood over the injured man and still pressed a little wad of lint over the bullet hole to stanch the blood.
The other women and the men withdrew to the fireplace and waited.
"He is very nasty and uncomfortable-looking, lying here in all these stained clothes, but I am afraid to undress him for fear of starting the wound to bleeding again, and that's the sacred truth," said Mrs. Winterose.
"No; don't move me," spoke a very faint voice, which, as she afterwards said, sounded so much as if it might have come from the dead, that the old lady withdrew her hand and recoiled from it.
"Brandy! brandy!" breathed the same voice.
"Tabby, get the brandy bottle and pour some into a glass and bring it here. Quick!" she exclaimed.
Miss Tabby, too much awed to whimper, brought the required stimulant, which Mrs. Winterose immediately administered to the patient.
The effect was good. He breathed more freely and looked around him.
"Now, be of good cheer! I have sent a man on a fast horse for the doctor. He will be here in an hour," said Mrs. Winterose encouragingly.
The wounded man laughed faintly, as he replied:
"Why, what can the doctor do for me? I'm shot to death. I'd like to see a magistrate, or a lawyer, though."
"Would you? Then you shall. Hey! one of you men, run out to the stable as fast as you can, and see if Joe's gone. If he isn't, tell him to fetch lawyer Closeby, as well as the doctor," said Mrs. Winterose.
Both of the laborers started on the errand.
Mrs. Winterose turned to her patient.
"What place is this; and who are you?" he inquired.
"Why, don't you know? This is Black Hall, and I am the caretaker."
"Black Hall!" echoed the man, starting up and gazing around him with an excitement that caused his wound to break out bleeding again. "Black Hall! Is it here that I must die? Here, and—great Heaven!—in the very room where the crime was committed! In the very room haunted by her memory!"
And covering his face with his hands, he fell back upon the pillow.
"Tabby, more brandy!" hastily exclaimed the old lady, as she nervously pressed a fresh piece of lint into the gushing wound.
"Yes, more brandy," he faintly whispered; "keep me alive, if possible, till the lawyer comes."
Miss Tabby brought the stimulant, and Mrs. Winterose put it to his lips.
"But, oh, this room! this fatal room! this haunted room!" he murmured, with a shudder.
"Be quiet, good man; this an't the room where the lady was murdered," said Miss Tabby.
"And which is haunted by her ghost to this day," put in Miss Libby, who had come up to the side of the bed.
"Not—not the room where Rosa was murdered this day fifteen years ago?" murmured the man, gazing around him. "Am I delirious, then? It seems the very same room, only with different furniture."
"It is the correspondial room in this wing. T'other room is in t'other wing," explained Miss Tabby.
"And yet, what difference? what difference?" he murmured, restlessly.
"Mother," whispered Miss Tabby, "it seems to me as I've see a this man before."
"Shouldn't wonder," replied the old lady in a low tone. "Mr. Horace Blondelle has been living at the Dubarry Springs, within ten miles of us, for the last thirteen or fourteen years, and it would be queer if you hadn't seen him before."
"Queer or not, I neverdidsee Mr. Horace Blondelle, to know him as sich, in all my life before. And that an't what I mean neither, mother. I have seen this man in a fright somewhere or other."
"The man in a fright?"
"No;mein a fright when I saw him."
"Hush! don't whisper! See, it disturbs him," said the old lady.
And in truth the wounded man had turned to listen to them, and was gazing uneasily from one to the other.
When they became silent, he beckoned Miss Tabby to approach.
She bent over him.
"Now, look at me well, old girl," he whispered faintly, "and see if you can't recollect when you met me last."
"Ah!" screamed Miss Tabby, as if she had seen a ghost. "It was on the night of the flood! And you reskeed of us!"
"That's so."
"Well, then, my good gentleman, it ought to be a comfort and a conserlation to you, a laying wounded there, to reflect as how youdidreskee us from drownding that night," said Miss Tabby, soothingly.
"I don't know as far as the rescuing of you is concerned, old girl, whether the act will be found set down on the debit or credit side of my account at the last day," he said, with a gleam of his old humor sparkling up from beneath all his pain of mind and body.
"So this was the man," said the old lady to herself, while Miss Libby and even Gem, looked at him with a new interest.
"Mr. Blondelle, can you tell me how you came to be wounded?" inquired the old lady.
"No, not now. I must save all my strength for what I have to say to the lawyer. Give me more brandy. And then let me alone," he said, speaking faintly and with difficulty.
His request was complied with, and then the three old women, with Gem, withdrew to the fire.
The two laboring men came in from their errand and joined them at the fire.
"Did you catch Joe?" inquired the dame.
"Yes, mum, just as he was riding off. We had to run after him and shout; but we stopped him, and gave him your message."
"All right; and now tell me—for I hadn't a chance to ask before—how came this gentleman to be wounded?"
"Don't know, mum. We was on our way to a little Hallow Eve merry-making at a neighbor's house in the Quarries, when we fell in long o' Joe, who had been to the pine woods to gather cones; and we was all jogging along, Joe foremost, when he stumbled and fell over something, which proved to be this man, which, to tell the truth, we took to be dead at the time," replied one of the men.
"And have you no idea who shot him?"
"No more than you have yourself, mum. You see—"
A groan from the wounded man interrupted the conversation.
"Hush! we disturb him. I ought to have known better than to talk," whispered Mrs. Winterose, and then she walked to the bedside and inquired:
"What is the matter? Can I do anything for you?"
"No; let me alone, and be quiet," was the feeble reply.
The old woman went back to the fireplace, and sat down in silence. The two laboring men, uninvited, seated themselves at a short distance. All thoughts of going to a merry-making were given up for that night.
And a weary death-watch commenced, and continued in awful silence and stillness until it was interrupted by the sound of horses' feet in front of the house, and soon after by a loud knocking.
Miss Tabby sprang up to open the door and admit the doctor and the lawyer.
"This is a terrible thing, Mrs. Winterose," said Dr. Hart, as he shook hands with the old lady, and bowed to the other members of the family.
"Terrible indeed, sir," replied Mrs. Winterose, as she led the way to the bedside.
"I am sorry to see you wounded, Mr. Blondelle; but we shall bring you round all right," said Dr. Hart, as he took the hand of the dying man.
"Doctor, you know, or you will soon know, that you cannot do any such thing. So let us have no flattery. But if you can give me anything to keep me alive until I shall have finished a statement, that it may take me an hour to make, you will do the only thing you possibly can do for me," said Mr. Blondelle, speaking faintly, with difficulty, and with frequent pauses.
"Let me examine your injuries," said the doctor, gently.
"Do so, if you must and will. But pray occupy as little of my precious time as possible," pleaded the dying man.
The doctor proceeded to make his examination.
When he had finished it, he made not a single comment.
"I told you so," said Mr. Blondelle, interpreting his silence. "And now give me something to keep me going until I finish my work, and then send all these women out of the room, so as to leave us alone with the lawyer; but let them supply him with writing materials first."
"I will do as you direct; but meanwhile, shall I not send for your wife?" gently inquired the doctor.
"No; what would be the use? It will be all over with me before she can possibly get here," answered Mr. Blondelle.
The doctor did not urge the point; he probably agreed with his patient.
When he had administered a stimulant, he whispered to Mrs. Winterose to place writing materials on the little stand beside the cot, and then to take her daughters and Gem up stairs.
When the women had left the room, the doctor bade the two laboring men retire with Joe to the kitchen, where he himself would have followed them, seeing that the rest of the house was closed up and fireless; but at a sign from the dying man, he stayed, and took a seat by the bedside.
The lawyer sat between the bed's head and the little stand upon which pens, ink, and paper had been placed.
"It is a will," said Mr. Closeby, as he rolled out a sheet of parchment he had taken the precaution to bring.
The dying man laughed low as he replied:
"No, it is a confession. I can make it now, when it will redeemherlife without ruining mine."
The lawyer and the doctor exchanged glances, but made no comment.
What Mr. Horace Blondelle's confession would be they had already surmised. What it really was will be seen presently.
The work occupied something more than an hour, for the narrator was very weak from loss of blood, and spoke slowly, faintly, and with frequent pauses, while the lawyer, at leisure, took down his words, and the doctor from time to time consulted his pulse and administered stimulants.
Meanwhile the three old women, with Gem, remained up stairs, gathered around the small fire in their bed-room. Awe hushed their usually garrulous tones, or moved them to speak only in whispers. Never seemed an hour so long. At length it was past, and more than past, when the door at the foot of the stairs was opened, and the doctor's voice was heard calling upon them to come down.
"Is it all over?" whisperingly inquired Mrs. Winterose.
"The work is over."
"But the man, I mean."
"It is not all over with him yet. He still lives, though sinking fast."
"Don't you think he ought to have a clergyman?"
"He would be dead before a clergyman could be brought here."
This rapid, low-toned conversation took place at the foot of the stairs, out of hearing of the dying man, whose senses were fast failing.
Mrs. Winterose then came down into the room and took her seat by the bed, and from time to time bathed the sufferer's brow with her own preparation of aromatic vinegar, or moistened his lips with brandy and water.
Tabby, Libby, and Gem sat around the fire. The doctor and the lawyer stood conferring in a low tone at a distant window.
Thus the death-watch was kept in the silence of awe, until Miss Tabby, unable to resist her desire to do something for the sufferer, crept up to the side of the cot opposite to which her mother sat, and "shook his sands," by asking him in a low tone:
"Is therenoone in the world you would like to see, or to send a message to?"
"No—no one—but Sybil Berners—and I have written a message to—her; but—to see her—is impossible," gasped the man at intervals.
"Tabby, go sit down and keep quiet. You only worry the poor soul!" said Mrs. Winterose.
Miss Tabby complied, and the silent death-watch was resumed, and continued unbroken except by the howling of the wind, the beating of the rain, and the rattling of the leafless trees, until at length—inexplicable sound!—wheelswere heard, grating over the rough, neglected avenue, and approaching the house.
Who could it be, coming at that late hour of a stormy night, to a house to which, even in daylight and good weather, scarcely a visitor ever came?
The sound of the wheels ceased before the door, and was immediately followed by a knock.
"Burglars never come in wheeled carriages," said Miss Tabby to herself, as she recovered her courage, and went and opened the door.
She recoiled with a loud cry.
Every one started up, and hurried forward to see what could now be the matter.
Long years had seen her roamingA sad and weary way,Like traveller tired at gloaming,Of a sultry summer-day.But now a home doth greet her,Though worn its portals be,And ready kindness meet her,And peace that will not flee.—Percival.
Sybil Berners stood before them! Sybil Berners, in magnificent beauty! Sybil Berners, developed into a woman of majestic dignity and angelic grace!
Yet they all knew her in an instant.
The scene that followed is indescribable, unimaginable.
Forgotten was the dying man! Unseen was Lyon Berners, whose fine form filled up the door-way.
They crowded aroundher, they caressed her, they cried over her, they exclaimed about her, they asked her a scoreof questions, and without waiting for a single answer asked her a hundred others.
"God bless my dear old home, and all the people in it!" were the first words that Sybil spoke after she was permitted to catch her breath.
"And you, my darling, you! God bless you in coming home!" fervently exclaimed the old woman.
"Now, where is my child; Mrs. Winterose? Where is my Gem?" the lady inquired, looking eagerly around the room.
"Gem, come here," said the dame.
And the beautiful young girl who had been timidly lingering in the background, yet with some suspicion of the lady's identity too, came modestly forward, and was silently folded in the arms of her mother.
A moment they clung thus; and then Sybil lifted the young head from her bosom, and holding it between her hands gazed tenderly down in the sweet face.
"My daughter! my little Gem!" she murmured. "It is but a few months since I knew that I possessed you."
"But I always knew that you were my mother. I always knew it, though no one ever told me!" sobbed Gem.
"And did you think that I had deserted you all this time, my daughter, my daughter?" inquired the lady, lingering on the last word, and tenderly gazing into her dark eyes.
"I thought you were compelled to do it, mother!"
"What! to leave you here alone, uncared for and unschooled, all these long years? No, my daughter; no, no, no. I did not know that I was blessed with a daughter; I did not know that you lived, until within a few months past. Mistaken love for me, inordinate care for me, induced all those who were nearest to me to conceal your existence from me, lest, if I should know it, I should compromise my safety, my liberty and life, Gem, by seeking to see you!"
"Oh, mother!"
"And they were so far right, my darling, that as soon as at last, your father informed me of your existence, and of a necessity to bring you over to us for education, I became so impatient that I could not wait for you to be brought to me. I felt that I must fetch you, at all risks, for the sake of seeing you some few weeks earlier than I could by waiting for you over there! So here I am, my daughter!"
"But oh! dearest, dearest mother, at what a hazard!" sighed Gem.
"I do not believe it, my darling. I do not believe, after all these years, that any one will seek to molest me for the few days that I shall remain here, even if my presence should be suspected, which will be very improbable, as I have taken and shall take every precaution for secrecy. I have travelled only by night, Gem, and this is the first time I have raised my thickveil."
"But oh, mother!" she said, giving an alarmed look around, for she suddenly remembered that there were the doctor and the lawyer in the house; but she did not see them. They had discreetly withdrawn into the back room.
"And now, dear Gem, here is your father, who is waiting to embrace you," said Sybil.
And Lyon Berners, who had forborne to interrupt the meeting between the mother and daughter, and who was standing apart, talking in low, eager tones with Mrs. Winterose, now came forward and folded his daughter to his heart, and laid his hand upon her head and blessed her.
"But who is that?" exclaimed Sybil, in a startled tone, as she turned her eyes upon a ghastly and blood-stained form, sitting bolt upright on the cot bedstead, and staring in a death panic at her.
At her exclamation all eyes were turned in the directionthat hers had taken, and Mr. Berners looked inquiringly towards Mrs. Winterose who hastened to reply:
"Oh, I forgot. In my joy at her arrival, I forgot all about the poor dying man! Sir, he is Mr. Blondelle, who owns the great Dubarry Springs up yonder. He was set upon and murdered by—the Lord only knows whom—but he was found by Joe lying in the pine woods, and with the help of two laborers he was brought here. We sent for the doctor, but he could do nothing for him. He must die, and he knows it," she added, in a whisper.
In the mean time, Sybil, staring at the ghastly face which was staring back at her through its glazing eyes, recognised an old acquaintance.
"It is Satan!" she gasped. "It is Captain 'Inconnu!'"
And Miss Tabby moved by compassion, went up to him and whispered:
"Listen, now. You said there was only one person in the world as you wanted to see, and that it was impossible to see her. But here she is. Do you understand me? Here she is."
"Who? Who?" panted the dying man, listening to Miss Tabby, but still staring at Sybil in the same dazed manner.
"Sybil Berners! Sybil Berners is here!"
"Is—that—her?"
"Yes, yes; don't you see it is?"
"I thought—I thought—it was her phantom!" he gasped.
Sybil gravely approached the bed, and put her hand on the cold hand of the corpse-like man, and gently inquired:
"Mr. Blondelle, or Captain 'Inconnu,' did you want to see me?"
"The expiring flame of life flashed up, once more—flashed up brilliantly. His whole face brightened and beamed.
"It is you! Oh, thank Heaven! Yes, I did want to see you. But—It is growing very dark. Where have you gone?" he inquired, blindly feeling about.
"I am beside you. Here, take my hand, that you may feel that I am here," said Sybil, compassionately.
"Yes. Thanks. Lady, I did try very hard to save you from the consequences of my crime."
"Wretched man!" exclaimed Sybil impulsively snatching away her hand in abhorrence, "You murdered that unhappy woman, of whose death I was falsely accused."
"No, lady; no! Give me your hand again. Mine is not stained with her blood. Thank you," he said, as Sybil laid her hand in his.
"A wild, bad man I was and am, but no murderer; and yet it is no less true that it was through my fault that the poor woman was done to death, and you driven to insanity. That was the reason why I tried to save you by every other means but the only sure one—confession. But now, when a confession will redeem your life without ruining mine—mine—which is over—I have made it, under oath, signed it, and placed it in the hands of your solicitor, lawyer Closeby."
He ceased to speak, and he breathed very hard.
She continued to hold his hand, which grew colder and colder in her clasp.
"Lie down," she whispered gently. "You are too weak to sit up. Lie down."
"No, not yet," he panted hard. "Tell me: do you forgive me?"
"As I hope to be forgiven, I forgive you with all my heart and soul; and I pray to the Lord to pardon you, for the Saviour's sake," said Sybil, earnestly.
"Amen and amen!" faintly aspirated the expiring man. And his frozen hand slipped from Sybil's clasp, and he fell back upon his pillow—DEAD.
Sybil's sudden cry brought the three old women to the bedside.
"It is all over, my dear child. The poor man has gone to his account. Come away," said the experienced dame, when she had looked at the corpse.
"I am very glad as you happened to come in time, and as you was good to him and forgave him, whether he deserved it or not," wept the tender-hearted Miss Tabby.
"Every one who is penitent enough to ask for forgiveness deserves to have it, Miss Tabby," said Sybil, solemnly.
"But, oh! the signs and omens as ushered in this awful ewent!" whispered Miss Libby.
"Hush! hush!" said the dame. "To more vain talk. We are in the presence of death. Mr. Lyon, my dear sir, take your wife and daughter into the parlor. It is not damp, or close. It was aired yesterday. The whole house has been opened and aired faithful, once a month, ever since you have been away. And Joe went and made a fire in the parlor about a quarter of an hour ago. Take them in there, Mr. Lyon, and leave me and my daughters to do our last duties to this dead man," she added, turning to Mr. Berbers.
He followed her advice, and took his wife and daughter from the room of death.
As they entered the old familiar parlor, now well aired and warmed and lighted, Joe, who was still busy improving the fire, and Mopsy, who was dusting the furniture, came forward in a hurry to greet their beloved mistress. They loudly welcomed her, wept over her, blessed her, kissed her hands, and would not let her go until the door opened, and Dr. Hart and lawyer Closeby entered the room.
"Go now," said Sybil gently to her faithful servants. "Mopsy, see to having my bed-room got ready; and, Joe, carry up a plenty of wood."
And of course she gave them these directions for thesake of giving them something to do for herself, which she knew would please them.
Delighted to obey their beloved mistress, they left the room.
Dr. Hart and lawyer Closeby came up to Sybil.
"Let us welcome you home, Mrs. Berners! And you, sir! Words would fail to express our happiness in seeing you. You arrive in an auspicious hour too. If you had not come I should have dispatched a special messenger to Europe after you by the next steamer," said lawyer Closeby, grasping a hand each of Sybil and Lyon.
"Welcome, my child! Welcome, Sybil! Welcome home! I thank Heaven that I have lived to see this day. Well may I exclaim with one of old, 'Now, Lord, let thy servant depart in peace, for I have seen the desire of my eyes!'" fervently exclaimed old Dr. Hart, as he clasped and shook Sybil's hands, while the tears of joy filled his eyes.
But Sybil threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, for she could not speak.
Then he shook hands with Mr. Berners, and warmly welcomed him home.
When the congratulations were all over, and the friends were seated around the fire, Mr. Closeby drew a parchment packet from his pocket, and said:
"I told you, Sir, and Madam, that you had arrived in time to prevent my sending for you. I hold the cause of my words in my hand."
"The confession of Horace Blondelle?" said Mr. Berners, while Sybil listened eagerly.
"Yes; the confession of Horace Blondelle,aliasCaptain Inconnu,aliasSatan. This confession must first be read to you, then sent up to the Governor of Virginia, and finally published to the whole world; for it fully vindicates your honor, Mrs. Berners."
"At last! thank Heaven!" exclaimed Sybil, while her husband took one of her hands and pressed it, and her daughter took the other one and kissed it.
"The writing down of this confession from the lips of the dying man occupied an hour and a quarter; the reading of it will take perhaps fifteen minutes. Can you hear it now, or are you too much fatigued with your journey, and would you prefer to put off the reading until to-morrow morning?" inquired the lawyer, looking from Sybil to Lyon.
"Put off the reading of that document until to-morrow? By no means! Read it at once, if you please," replied Mr. Berners, with a glance at his wife, which she at once understood and acted upon by hastening to say:
"Oh, yes! yes! read it at once! I could not sleep now without first hearing it."
"Very well, then," said the lawyer, as he unfolded the paper and prepared to peruse it.
The confession of Horace Blondelle need not be given in full here. A synopsis of it will serve our purpose.
As the son of a wicked old nobleman and a worthless young ballet dancer, he had been brought up in the very worst school of morality.
His mother closed her career in a hospital. His father died at an advanced age, leaving him a large legacy.
His beauty, his wit, and his money enabled him to insinuate himself into the rather lax society of fashionable watering places and other public resorts.
He had married three times. First he married a certain Lady Riordon, the wealthy widow of an Irish knight, and the mother of Raphael, who became his step-son. He soon squandered this lady's fortune, and broke her heart.
After her death he joined himself to a band of smugglers trading between the French and English coast, and consorted with them until he had made money for a fashionable campaign among the watering places. He went to Scarborough, where he met and married the fair young Scotch widow Rosa Douglass.
He lived with her until he had spent all her money, and swindled her infant out of his inheritance, and then he had robbed her of her jewels and deserted her.
About the same time a smuggling craft, unsuspected as such by the authorities, had entered the port of Norfolk, sailing under the British flag.
Mr. Horace Blondelle, going to take passage in her, recognized the captain and the crew as his own old confederates.
As he was quite ready for new adventures, he joined them then and there. The ship sailed the next day. And the next week it was wrecked on the coast of Virginia.
The lives of the captain and crew, and also the money and jewels, the silks and spirits they had on board, were all saved. They reached the land in safety.
There a new scheme was formed in the busy brain of Mr. Blondelle. Accident had revealed to him the fact that the little Gentiliska, the orphan daughter of a dead comrade, was the heiress of a great Virginian manor, long unclaimed. He made up his mind to go and look up the estate, marry the heiress, and claim her rights.
Without revealing his whole plan to his companions, he persuaded them to accompany him to the neighborhood.
There is a freemasonry among thieves that enables them to recognize each other even at a first meeting.
Blondelle and his band no sooner reached the neighborhood of the Black Mountain, than they strengthened their forces by the addition of all the local outlaws who were at large.
They made their head-quarters first at the old deserted "Haunted Chapel." They penetrated into the vault beneath it, and there discovered the clue to the labyrinth ofcaverns under the mountain that henceforth became their stronghold.
Thence they sallied out at night upon their predatory errands.
On the night of the mask ball, two members of the band determined to attend it in disguise, for the double purpose of espionage and robbery. Mr. Blondelle had learned to his chagrin that his deserted wife was in the neighborhood, at Black Hall, where her presence of course would defeat his plan of marrying the little Dubarry heiress.
He arrived as an ordinary traveller at the Blackville Inn, where he assumed the ghastly and fantastic character of "Death," and went to the ball.
His companion, known in the band as "Belial," took the character of Satan, and met him there.
With great dexterity, they had lightened several ladies and gentlemen of valuable jewels before supper was announced. And then they went and concealed themselves in the heavy folds of the bed-curtains in Mrs. Blondelle's room, intending to rob the house that night.
An accident revealed the presence of Belial to Mrs. Blondelle, who, on catching sight of him, screamed loudly for help. The robber was at her throat in an instant; in another instant his dagger was buried in her bosom; and then, as Sybil's steps were heard hurrying to the help of her guest, he jumped out of the low window, followed instantly by Blondelle. They clapped the shutter to, and fled.
Subsequently, when Mr. Blondelle discovered that the beautiful Sybil Berners was accused of the murder, he sought to save her in every manner but the only sure one—confession. He could not confess, for two reasons. He was bound by the mutual compact of the band, never to betray a comrade; and also he was resolved now that he was free, to marry the Dubarry heiress and claim themanor, which he could never do, if once he were known as an outlaw.
The death of Belial and the disbanding of the robbers released him from his compact; but still self-preservation kept him silent until the hour of his death, when he made this confession as an act of tardy justice to Sybil Berners. His violent death had been the direct result of his lawless life. A brutal ex-confederate in crime had long successfully black-mailed him, and at length waylaid, robbed, and murdered him. The criminal subsequently fled the neighborhood, but no doubt somewhere, sooner or later, met his deserts.
The confession was ended. At the same time Miss Tabby knocked at the door and announced supper.
And after this refreshment the friends separated, and retired to rest.
There is but little more to tell.
The next day news of the tragedy was taken to the Dubarry Springs.
Raphael Riordon and his step-mother, Mrs. Blondelle, came over to view the corpse and see to its removal.
Gentiliska, now a very handsome matron, gazed at the dead body with a strangely mingled expression of pity, dislike, sorrow, and relief. She had not been happy with the outlaw, whom, in her ignorance and friendlessness, she had been induced to marry; and she was not now unhappy in his death.
Raphael, now a grave and handsome man, met Mrs. Berners with a sad composure. He worshipped her as constantly and as purely as ever. He had known no second faith.
Mr. Blondelle was buried at Dubarry.
His confession was duly laid before the Governor of Virginia, who, in granting Sybil a pardon for the crime she had never committed, also wrote her a vindicatory letter, inwhich he expressed his respect for her many virtues, and his sorrow that the blundering of the law should have caused her so much of suffering.
The criminal's confession and the Governor's letter were both published through the length and breadth of the land. And Sybil Berners became as much loved and lionized as ever she had been hated and persecuted.
In the spring other exiles returned to the neighborhood: Captain Pendleton and his wife, once Miss Minnie Sheridan; and Mr. Sheridan, with his wife, once Miss Beatrix Pendleton.
Both these couples had long been married, and had been blessed with large families of sons and daughters.
The widow Blondelle sold out her interest in the Dubarry White Sulphur Springs, and with her step-son Raphael Riordon, returned to England. Under another name, those springs are now among the most popular in America.
Mr. and Mrs. Berners have but one child—Gem! But she is the darling of their hearts and eyes; and she is betrothed to Cromartie Douglass, whom they love as a son.
Transcriber's Note:Obvious typographical errors and errors in punctuation were corrected.Both "bedchamber" and "bed-chamber" were used in this text. Also used were "bedroom" and "bed-room"; "bedside" and bed-side"; "churchyard" and "church-yard"; "good-by" and "good-bye"; "overgrown" and "over-grown"; "roadside" and "road-side"; "washstand" and "wash-stand".The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text willappear.
Obvious typographical errors and errors in punctuation were corrected.
Both "bedchamber" and "bed-chamber" were used in this text. Also used were "bedroom" and "bed-room"; "bedside" and bed-side"; "churchyard" and "church-yard"; "good-by" and "good-bye"; "overgrown" and "over-grown"; "roadside" and "road-side"; "washstand" and "wash-stand".
The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text willappear.