Still the wood is dim and lonely,

Still the plashing fountains play,

But the past with all its beauty,

Whither has it fled away?

Hark! the mournful echoes say,

Fled away!--A.A. PROCTOR.

"And the apparition that we both saw was like that of the gipsy girl in

the ghostly legend," said Sybil, musingly.

"Yes; in the matter of the red cloak--a very common garment, dear Sybil.

Such a resemblance reminds us of Paganini's portrait which the child

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said was like him, 'about the fiddle,'" replied Lyon Berners, with an

effort towards pleasantry, which was very far indeed from his heart; for

he was oppressed with grief and dread. He was anxiously looking forward

to the arrival of Captain Pendleton; and fearing for the effect his

disclosures must have upon his beloved Sybil, who seemed still so

utterly unable to realize her position. She seemed almost satisfied now,

so that Lyon was near her, and she was the only object of his care. So

disengaged was her mind, at this hour, from all real appreciation of her

situation, that she had leisure to feel interested in the tale that Lyon

had told her. She again reverted to it.

"But the likeness was not only in the red cloak, it was in the whole

gipsy style. I spoke of that, even before you had told me anything about

the gipsy girl," persisted Sybil.

Before Lyon could answer her, steps were heard approaching.

"There is Pendleton," exclaimed Mr. Berners, and he arose and hurried

forward to meet the visitor.

"Hush! come out here a moment," he whispered, drawing Captain Pendleton

outside the chapel. "Sybil knows nothing of that verdict as yet. I wish

to keep it from her knowledge as long as possible--for ever, if

possible. So if you have any more bad news to tell, tell it now, and

here, to me," he added.

"Berners," began the Captain--but then he paused in pity.

"Go on," said Lyon.

"My friend, the flight of your wife and yourself if not absolutely

ascertained, is strongly suspected. An officer watches your closed

chamber door. Two others have been dispatched to Blackville, to watch

the ferry. By to-morrow morning the flight, so strongly suspected now,

will be fully discovered. This is all I have to say in private. And now,

perhaps we had better not linger any longer here, lest Mrs. Berners may

suspect something, if possible, even more alarming than the truth," said

Captain Pendleton.

"You are quite right," admitted Lyon Berners, and they entered the

chapel together.

Sybil sprang up to meet them.

"What news, Captain? Is the murderer discovered? May we return home?"

she eagerly inquired.

"No, madam; the murderer has not yet been discovered, nor do I think it

would be prudent in you yet to return home," replied the Captain,

feeling relieved that her questions had taken forms that enabled him to

reply truly to them without divulging the alarming intelligence of the

verdict of the coroner's jury.




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