"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."

"Indeed you must not, Trix. Wait till she makes her appearance: that will be time enough," answered her brother.

"Oh, this is a horrible night; I wish it were over. I cannot go to bed; n.o.body can. The ladies are all sitting huddled together in the dressing-room, although the fire has gone out; and the servants are all gathered in the kitchen, too panic-stricken to do anything. Oh, an awful night! I wish it were morning."

"It will soon be daylight now, dear Beatrix. You had better go and rejoin your companions."

And so the brother and sister separated for the night; Beatrix going to sit and shudder with the other ladies in the dressing-room, and Clement returning to the parlor to lounge and doze among the gentlemen.

Only his anxiety for Sybil's safety so much disturbed his repose, that if he did but drop into an instant's slumber he started from it in a vague fright. So the small hours of the morning wore on and brought the dull, drizzly, wintry daylight.

Meanwhile Lyon and Sybil Berners rode on through mist and rain.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.

"The chapel was a ruin old, That stood so low, in lonely glen.

The gothic windows high and dark Were hung with ivy, brier, and yew."

The Haunted Chapel to which Mr. and Mrs. Berners were going was in a dark and lonely gorge on the other side of the mountain across Black River, but near its rise in the Black Torrent. To reach the chapel, they would have to ride three miles up the sh.o.r.e and ford the river, and then pa.s.s over the opposite mountain. The road was as difficult and dangerous as it was lonely and unfrequented.

Lyon and Sybil rode on together in silence, bending their heads before the driving mist, and keeping close to the banks of the river until they should reach the fording place.

At length Sybil's anguish broke forth in words.

"Oh! Lyon, is this nightmare? Or is it true that I am so suddenly cast down from my secure place, as to become in one hour a fugitive from my home, a fugitive from justice! Oh! Lyon, speak to me. Break the spell that binds my senses. Wake me up. Wake me up," she wildly exclaimed.

"Dear Sybil, be patient, calm, and firm. This is a terrible calamity.

But to meet calamity bravely, is the test of a true high soul. You are compelled to seek safety in flight, to conceal yourself for the present, to avoid a train of unmerited humiliations that even the consciousness of innocence would not enable you to bear. But you have only to be patient, and a few days or weeks must bring the truth to light, and restore you to your home."

"But flight itself looks like guilt; will be taken as additional evidence of guilt," groaned Sybil.

"Not so. Not when it is understood that the overwhelming weight of deceptive circ.u.mstantial evidence and deceptive direct testimony had so compromised you as to render flight your only means of salvation. Be brave, my own Sybil. And now, here we are at the ford. Take care of yourself. Let me lead your horse."

"No, no; that would embarra.s.s you, without helping me. Go on before, and I will follow."

Lyon Berners plunged into the stream. Sybil drew up her long skirts and dashed in after him. And they were both soon splashing through the Black River, blacker now than ever with the double darkness of night and mist.

A few minutes of brave effort on the part of horses and riders brought them all in safety to the opposite bank, up which they successfully struggled, and found themselves upon firm ground.

"The worst part of the journey is over, dear Sybil. Now I will ride in advance and find the pa.s.s, and do you keep close behind me," said Lyon Berners, riding slowly along the foot of the mountain until he came to a dark opening, which he entered, calling Sybil to follow him.

It was one of those fearful pa.s.ses so frequently to be found in the Allegheny Mountains, and which I have described so often that I may be excused from describing this. They went in, cautiously picking their way through this deeper darkness, and trusting much to the instinct of their mountain-trained steeds to take them safely through. An hour's slow, careful, breathless riding brought them out upon the other side of the mountain.

As they emerged from the dark labyrinth, Lyon Berners pulled up his horse to breathe, and to look about him. Sybil followed his example.

Day was now dawning over the broken and precipitous country.

"Where is that chapel of which you speak? I have heard of it all my life, but I have never seen it; and beyond the fact that it is on this side of the mountain, and not far from the Black Torrent, I know nothing about it," said Sybil.

"It is near the Black Torrent; almost under the bed of the cascade, in fact. And we shall have to turn our horses' heads up stream again to reach it," answered Lyon Berners.

"You know exactly where it is; you have been there, perhaps?" inquired Sybil.

"I have seen it but once in my life. But I can easily find it. It is not a frequented place of resort, dear Sybil. But that makes it all the safer as a place of concealment for you," said Lyon Berners, as he started his horse and rode on.

Sybil followed him closely.

Day was broadening over the mountains, and bringing out a thousand prismatic colors from the autumn foliage of the trees, gemmed now with the rain drops that had fallen during the night.

"It will be quite clear when the sun rises," said Lyon, encouragingly to Sybil, as they went on.

He was right. Sunrise in the mountains is sometimes almost as sudden in its effects as sunrise at sea. The eastern horizon had been ruddy for sometime, but when the sun suddenly came up from behind the mountain, the mist lifted itself, rolled into soft white wreaths and crowned the summits, while all the land below broke out into an effulgence of light, color, and glory.

But people who are flying for life do not pause to enjoy scenery, even of the finest. Lyon and Sybil rode on towards the upper banks of the Black River, hearing at every step the thunder of the Black Torrent, as it leaped from rock to rock in its pa.s.sionate descent to the valley.

At length they came to a narrow opening in the side of the mountain.

"Here is a path I know," said Mr. Berners, "though its entrance is so concealed by undergrowth as to be almost impossible to discover."

Lyon Berners dismounted, and began to grope for the entrance in a thicket of wild-rose bushes, that were now closely covered with scarlet seed-pods that glowed, and raindrops that sparkled, in the rays of the morning sun.

At length he found the path, and then he returned to his wife, and said:

"We cannot take our horses through the thicket, dear Sybil. You will have to dismount and remain concealed in here until I lead them back across the river, where I will turn them loose. There will be a great advantage gained by that move. Our horses being found on the other side, will mislead our pursuers on a false scent."

While Lyon Berners spoke, he a.s.sisted his wife to alight from her saddle, and guided her to the entrance of the thicket.

"This path has not been trodden for a score of years, I can well believe. Just go far enough to be out of sight of any chance spy, and there remain until I return. I shall not be absent over half an hour,"

said Mr. Berners, as he took leave of Sybil.

She sank wearily down upon a fragment of a rock, and prepared to await his return.

He mounted his own horse, and led hers, and so went his way down the stream to the fording place.