"Plenty has axed arter you both, Marse! But as no one but me and Capping
Pendulum knowed where you was gone, and as I locked your door, and took
the key, most of the folks still think as how Miss Sybil has gone to
bed, overcome by the ewents of the night, and as how you is a watching
by her, and a taking care of her."
"That also is well."
"But, Marse, how is Miss Sybil, and where is she?" inquired the faithful
servant, looking about himself.
"She is very much prostrated by fatigue and excitement, and is now
sleeping in the church."
"Thanks be to the Divine Marster as she can sleep," said Joe,
reverently.
"And now," he continued, as he replaced it on his head, "I will kindle a
fire and make the coffee, and may be she may wake up by the time it is
ready."
"Kindle a fire out here, Joe! Will not the smoke be seen, and lead to
our discovery?" inquired Lyon Berners, glancing at the slender column of
smoke from the fire in the church, that he himself had kindled, and now
for the first time struck with the sense of the danger of discovery to
which it might have exposed Sybil.
"Lord, Marse!" replied Joe, showing his teeth, "we are too far off from
any human being for any eye to see our smoke. And even if it wasn't so,
bless you, there are so many mists rising from the valley this morning,
that one smoke more or less wouldn't be noticed."
"That is true," admitted Mr. Berners.
Meanwhile Joe busied himself with lighting a fire. When it was burning
freely, he took the kettle and filled it from the little stream that
flowed through the church-yard.
"Now, Marse Lyon, in about ten minutes I will set you down to as good a
breakfast, almost, as you could have got at home," said Joe, as he
raised three cross-sticks over the fire, and hung the kettle over the
blaze, gipsy fashion.
While Joe was at work, Mr. Berners went into the church to look after
Sybil.
She was still sleeping the heavy sleep of utter mental and bodily
prostration. For a few minutes he stood contemplating her with an
expression of countenance full of love and pity, and then after
adjusting the covering over her, and collecting together the brands of
the expiring fire to light up again, he left the church.
On going outside, he found that Joe had spread a cloth and arranged a
rude sort of picnic breakfast upon the ground.
"The coffee is ready, Marse Lyon; but how about the Missis?" inquired
the man, as he stirred down the grounds from the top of the pot.
"She is still sleeping, and must not be disturbed," answered Mr.
Berners.