CHAPTER IV.

THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER.

"From the glance of her eye Shun danger and fly, for fatal's the glance."

Very happy were the married lovers as they sat over their tea, even though the scene of their domestic joy was just now but an inn-parlor.

Both the young people had good appet.i.tes: gratified love had not deprived them of that.

They talked of their homeward journey and how pleasant it would be in this glorious autumn weather, and of their home and how glad they would be to reach it--yes, how glad! For, paradoxical as it may seem to say so, there is no happiness so perfect as that which looks forward to something still more perfect, if such could be possible in the future.

They talked of the Black Valley, and how beautiful even that would look in its gorgeous October livery.

Suddenly in the midst of their sweet converse they heard the sound of weeping--low, deep, heart-broken weeping.

Both paused, looked at each other and listened.

The sound seemed to come from a room on the opposite side of the pa.s.sage to their own apartment.

"What is that?" inquired Sybil, looking up to her husband's face.

"It seems to be some woman in distress," answered Lyon.

"Oh! see what it is, dear, will you?" entreated Sybil.

She was herself so happy, that it was really dreadful to be reminded just then that sorrow should exist in this world; at all.

"Oh, go and see what is the matter. Do, dear," she insisted, seeing that he hesitated.

"I would do so, dear, in a moment, but it might be indiscreet on my part. The lady may be a party to some little domestic misunderstanding, with which it would be impertinent in any stranger to interfere,"

answered the more thoughtful husband.

"A domestic misunderstanding! O, dear Lyon, that such things should be!

Fancy you and I having a misunderstanding!" exclaimed Sybil, with a shiver.

"I cannot fancy anything of the sort, my darling; Heaven forbid that I could!" said Lyon, fervently.

"Amen to that! But listen! Ah! how she weeps and wails! Oh, Lyon, how I pity her! Oh, how I wish I could do something for her! Oh, Lyon, are you sure it would be improper for me to go and see if I can relieve her in any way?" pleaded Sybil.

"Quite sure, my darling; I am quite sure that you must not interfere, at least at this stage. If this should be a case in which we can be of service, we shall be likely to know it when the waiter answers the bell that I rung some five minutes since," said Lyon, soothingly.

But Sybil could not rest with the sound of that weeping and wailing in her ears. She left her chair and began to walk up and down the floor, and to pause occasionally at her door to listen.

Suddenly a door on the opposite side of the pa.s.sage opened, and the voice of the landlord was heard, apparently speaking to the weeping woman.

"I beg you won't distress yourself, ma'am; I am sure I wouldn't do anything to distress you for the world. Keep up your spirits, ma'am.

Something may turn up yet, you know," he said as he closed the opposite door again; and then crossing the pa.s.sage, he knocked at the door of the Berners' apartments.

"Come in," said Lyon Berners eagerly, while Sybil paused in her restless walk and gazed breathlessly at the door.

Both were so interested, they could not have told why, in that weeping woman.

The landlord entered and closed the door behind him, and advanced with a bow and an apology.

"I am afraid that you and your good lady have been disturbed by the noise in the other room; but really I could not help it. I have done all I could to comfort the poor creature; but really you know, 'Rachel weeping for her children' was nothing to this woman. She's been going on in this way for the last three days, sir. I did hope she would be quiet this evening. I told her that I had guests in these rooms. But, Lord, sir! I might just as well try to reason with a thunderstorm as with her.

I wish I had quieter rooms to put you in, sir."

"Pray do not think of us. It is not the disturbance we mind on our own account; it is to hear a fellow creature in so much distress. A guest of the house?" inquired Mr. Berners.

"Yes, sir; worse luck."

"She has lost friends or--fortune?" continued Berners delicately investigating the case, while Sybil looked and listened with the deepest interest.

"Both, sir! Both, sir! All, sir! Everything, sir! It is really a case of atrocious villainy, sir! And I may say, a case of extreme difficulty as well! A case in which I need counsel myself, sir," said the landlord, with every appearance of being as willing to give information as to take advice.

CHAPTER V.

THE LANDLORD'S STORY.

"What wit so sharp is found in youth or age That can distinguish truth from treachery?

Falsehood puts on the face of simple truth, And masks i' th' habit of plain honesty, When she in heart intends most villany."

"Sit down, Mr. Judson; sit down, and tell us all about this matter; and if we can aid either you or your distressed lodger in any way, we shall be glad to do so," said Mr. Berners, earnestly.

"Yes, indeed," added Sybil, throwing herself down in her easy-chair, with a deep breath of relief and antic.i.p.ation.

"Well, sir, and madam," commenced the landlord, frankly accepting the offered seat, "the case is this: About ten days ago there arrived in this city, by the ship Banshee, from Cork, a lady, gentleman, and child, with two servants, who came directly to this house. The gentleman registered his party as Mr. and Mrs. Horace Blondelle, child, nurse, and valet, and he engaged the very best rooms in the house--the rooms corresponding to these on the opposite side of the pa.s.sage, you know, madam."

"Yes," a.s.sented Mrs. Berners.

"Well, sir, and Mr. Horace Blondelle ordered, besides the best rooms, everything else that was best in the house, and, indeed, better than the house contained; for, for his supper that very night, I had to send by his directions, and procure Johanesberg, Moselle, and other rare and costly wines, such as are seldom or never called for here. But then you know, sir, he was a foreign gentleman."

"Certainly," agreed Lyon, with a smile.

"Next day, the finest horses and carriages from the livery stables. And so on in the highest scale of expense, until his week's bill ran up to seven hundred dollars. As a good deal of this was money paid out of my pocket for costly wines and costly horses, I sent in my account on the Sat.u.r.day night. It is the usual thing, however, madam."

"I know," answered Mrs. Berners.

"Well, Mr. Horace Blondelle very promptly settled it by handing me a check on the local bank for the amount. It was too late then to cash my check, as the bank had been for some hours closed. But I resolved to take it to the bank the first thing on Monday morning to get the money; and I left Mr. Horace Blondelle's apartments with a secret feeling of commendation for his prudence in putting his ready money in the local bank, instead of keeping it about him in a crowded hotel like this. For, you know, sir, that the recent daring robbery at the Monroe House has proved to us that even the office safe is not _always_ 'safe.'"

"Not always," echoed Mr. Berners.

"Well, sir, and madam, I was so well pleased with my guest's prompt.i.tude in settling his bill, that I redoubled my attentions to his comfort and that of his party. On the Sunday he commenced the week's account by giving a large dinner-party, for he had made acquaintances in the town.

And again the most expensive delicacies and the mostly costly wines were ordered, with the most lavish extravagance. And they kept up the festivities in rather a noisy manner through the whole night, which was painful to me, I being a Churchman. But then, you know, madam, a landlord can not interfere with his guests to that extent."