Yet not once did Sybil's imagination take in the extreme horror of her position. She thought that she had been brought away by her husband to be saved from the affront of an arrest, and the humiliation of a few days imprisonment. That anything worse than this could happen to her, she never even dreamed. But even this to the pure, proud Sybil would have been almost insupportable mortification and misery. To escape all this she was almost willing to incur the charge of having fled from justice, and to endure the hardships of a fugitive's life.

And oh! through all there was one consolation so great, that it was enough to compensate for all the wretchedness of her position. She was a.s.sured of her husband's love, beyond all possibility of future doubt.

He was by her side, never to leave her more!

This was enough! She closed her hand around the beloved hand that held hers, and felt a strange peace and joy, even in the midst of her exile and danger.

Perhaps in this stillness she slumbered a while, for when she lifted her head, the chapel, that had been dark before, but for the gleaming of the little fire, was now dimly filled with the gray light of dawn.

She saw the shapes of the pointed windows against the background of heavy shadows and pale lights, and she knew that day was coming. She did not stir from the spot, lest she should wake her husband, whose hand held hers. All was still in the chapel, so still that even the faint sweet sounds of wakening nature could be heard--the stirring of the partridge in her cover, the creeping of the squirrel from her hole, the murmur of the little brook, the rustle of the leaves, and, farther off, the deep thunder of the cascade, and the detonating echoes of the mountains.

Sybil sat motionless, and almost breathless, lest she should disturb her beloved sleeper. But the next moment she could scarcely forbear screaming aloud; for there pa.s.sed along the wall before her a figure that, even in the dim light, she recognized as the strange visitant of the preceding day. It came from the direction of the altar, and glided past each of the four windows and vanished through the door. When Sybil had repressed her first impulse to scream, self-control was easy, so she sat quietly holding her husband's hand, though much amazed by what she had again seen.

Day broadened, and soon the rays of the rising sun, striking through the east windows, and lighting on the face of the sleeper, awoke him.

He looked into the face of his wife, and then along the walls of the chapel, with a bewildered expression of countenance. This had been his first sleep for two nights, and it had been so deep that he had utterly forgotten the terrible drama of the two last preceding days, and could not at once remember what had happened, or where he was. But as he again turned and looked into Sybil's face, full memory of all flashed back upon him. But he did not allude to the past; he merely said to Sybil:

"You have not slept, love."

"I have not wished to do so," she answered.

"This is a very primitive sort of life we are living, love," he said, with a smile, as he arose from the mattress.

"But it is not at all an unhappy one," answered Sybil; "for, oh, since you are with me, I do not care much about anything else. Destiny may do what she pleases, so that she does not part us. I can bear exile, hunger, cold, fatigue, pain--anything but parting, Lyon!"

"Do not fear that, love; we will never part for a single day, if I can help it."

"Then let anything else come. I can bear it cheerfully," smiled Sybil.

While they talked they were working also. Sybil was folding up the bedclothes, and Lyon was looking about for a bucket, to fetch water from the fountain. He soon found one, and went upon his errand.

Sybil followed him with two towels. They washed their hands and faces in the stream, and dried them on the towels. And then they went higher up the glen, and caught a bucketful of delightful water from the crystal spring that issued from the rocks.

They returned to the chapel, and together they made the fire and prepared the breakfast.

It was not until they were seated at their primitively arranged breakfast, which was laid upon the flagstones of the chapel floor--it was not, in fact, until they had nearly finished their simple meal, that Sybil told Lyon of the apparition she had seen in the early dawn, to come up as if from the floor to the right of the altar, and glide along the east wall of the chapel, past the four gothic windows, and disappear through the door.

"It was a morning dream, dear Sybil; nothing more," said Lyon, sententiously; for in the broad daylight he believed in nothing supernatural, even upon the evidence of his own senses.

"If that were a morning dream, then the sight that we saw together yesterday was but a dream, and you are but a dream, and life itself is but a dream," replied Sybil, earnestly.

"Well, at all events, what we have both, either separately or together, seen and experienced, must be something perfectly natural and commonplace, although we may not either of us be able to understand or explain it. My private opinion and worse misgiving is, that there is some woman concealed about the place. If ever I find myself in arm's length of that little gipsy, I shall intercept her, even at the risk of receiving such a spiritual-shock as that which struck Mrs. Alicia Dubarry to the ground," said Lyon, facetiously; for he might well make a jest of this lighter affair of the chapel mystery to veil the deep anxiety he felt in the heavy matter of their affliction.

The husband and wife pa.s.sed this second day of hiding tediously enough.

She made the little housekeeping corner of the chapel tidy, by folding up and putting aside all their bedclothes and garments, and by washing and arranging their few cooking utensils. He brought in wood and brush, which he broke up and piled in another corner, to have it near at hand to replenish the fire. Also, he brought water from the spring; and then with no other instrument than his pocket-knife, he made a trap and set it to catch rabbits.

Then they rambled together through the wilderness around the chapel, and the better they grew acquainted with the wild neighborhood, the surer they felt of their safety in its profound solitude.

Their only anxiety connected with their security in this place, was upon the subject of the mysterious visitant. It was incomprehensible by any known law of nature.

They talked of this mystery. They reverted to all the so-called "authenticated ghost stories" that they had ever read or heard, and that they had hitherto set down to be either impostures or delusions.

But now here was a fact in their own experience that utterly confounded their judgment, and the end of their discussion on the subject left them just where they had been at its commencement. They resolved, however, to divulge the whole matter to Captain Pendleton, to whom they had not yet even hinted it, and to ask his counsel; and they looked forward with impatience to the evening visit of this devoted friend.

As it was growing cold towards the setting of the sun they turned their steps again towards the chapel. It was quite dark when they reached it.

Their fire had nearly gone out, but he replenished it, and she began to prepare the evening meal.

While she was still engaged in this work, the sound of approaching footsteps warned them that Captain Pendleton was near. Lyon Berners went out to meet him.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A GHASTLY PROCESSION.

If charnel-houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites.--SHAKESPEARE.

"Well?" exclaimed Mr. Berners, eagerly.

"Well, the flight is now discovered beyond all doubt. Search-warrants have been issued. My house is to be searched among the rest," replied Captain Pendleton.

"What else?"

"Arrangements are being made for the funeral of the dead woman. They will bury her the day after to-morrow in the church-yard at Blackville."

"And what else?"

"Nothing, but that I would not permit Joe to accompany me to-night. More precaution is now necessary to insure your safety."

"And that is all?"

"Yes."

"Then come in and see Sybil."

They went in together, where Mrs. Berners greeted Captain Pendleton with her usual courtesy, and then immediately repeated her anxious questions.

"Has the murderer been discovered? May we go home?"

"Not yet, dear Madam!" answered Pendleton to both questions, as he sat down by the fire.

"I have something to tell you, Pendleton, and to ask your advice about,"

began Lyon Berners. And he related the mysterious vision that had thrice crossed their path.

"Oh! it is a form of flesh and blood! We don't believe in apparitions at this age of the world! But this indeed must be looked to! If you have seen her here three times, of course she has seen you," said Captain Pendleton in much anxiety.

"Most certainly she knows of our presence here, if she knows nothing else about us," replied Mr. Berners.