"A listener," he thought, in dismay as he pursued the fugitive. But he
only caught a glimpse of a figure disappearing through the front door
and into the darkness without, in which it was lost.
"An eavesdropper!" he exclaimed, in despair. "An eavesdropper! Who now
can be assured of her safety? Oh, Sybil! you rejected my hand, and very
nearly ruined my life. But this night I would die to save you," he
sighed, as he went and joined the gentlemen who were sitting up
watching, or rather dozing, in the parlor, while waiting for the
physician's or the coroner's arrival.
"Where is Mrs. Berners?" inquired the old Judge, rousing himself up.
"She retired to her chamber about an hour ago," answered Captain
Pendleton, telling the truth, but not the whole truth, as you will
perceive.
"Hum, ha, yes; well, and where is her husband?"
"He followed her there," answered the Captain, shortly.
"Ha, hum, yes, well. The coroner is long in coming," grumbled the Judge.
"It is some distance to Blackville, sir, and the roads are rough and the
night is dark," observed the Captain.
"Well, yes, true," agreed the old man, subsiding into his chair and into
his doze.
Captain Pendleton threw himself into a seat, but had not sat long before
the parlor door opened, and his sister appeared at it and called to him
in a low voice.
He arose, and went to her.
"Come out into the hall here; I want to speak to you, Clement," said
Miss Pendleton.
He went out.
Then his sister inquired, in a voice full of anxious entreaty: "Clement, where is Sybil?"
"She went to her room a little more than an hour ago," answered the
brother, giving his sister the same answer that he had given the Judge.
"Clement, I must go to her, and throw my arms around her neck and kiss
her. I must not tell her in so many words that I know she is innocent,
for to do that would be to affront her almost as much as if I should
accuse her of being guilty; for she will rightly enough think that her
innocence should not be called into question, but should be taken for
granted. So I must not say a word on that subject, but I must find her
and embrace her, and make her feel that I know she is innocent. Who is
with her?"
"Her husband is with her, Beatrix, and so you can not of course go to
her now."
"Oh, but I am so anxious to do so. Look here, Clement. I stood there
among the crowd this evening, gazing upon that bleeding and dying woman,
until the sight of her ghastly form and face seemed to affect me as the
Medusa's head was said to have affected the beholder, and turn me into
stone. Clement, I was so petrified that I could not move or speak, even
when she appealed to us all to know whether any among us could believe
her to be capable of such an act. I could not speak; I could not move.
She must have thought that I too condemned her, and I cannot bear to
rest under that suspicion of hers. I must go to her now, Clement."