Lyon encouraged her as much as he possibly could, but he had his own private subject of anxiety. He had not of course told any one of his intention to go abroad. Every one believed that, having sold out his load, he would return home; but he was obliged to stay in the city until the sailing of the ship, and he wanted a fair excuse to do so.

That evening the weather changed, and the sky clouded over, and the next morning it rained, and it continued to rain for three days.

"This here will make them there roads so bad that we shan't be able to travel for a week, even if it does clear up soon," grumbled and growled the self-styled farmer, feeling glad all the while of an excuse to stay until the ship should sail.

"No, that you won't," echoed his friend the landlord, glad to retain a guest with whom he was pleased.

On the third day of the rain, the sky showing signs of clearing, Lyon Berners went over to Portsmouth to hear at what precise time the Enterprise would sail for Liverpool. When he returned he had good news for Sybil.

"The Ship will sail on Sat.u.r.day! That is the day after to-morrow, dear Sybil. And we may go on board to-morrow night."

"Oh! I am so glad!" exclaimed Sybil, clapping her hands for joy. And she began to pack up immediately.

"Moreover, I have sold my wagon and horses to a party at Portsmouth. And so we can put our luggage into it and drive off as if we were going home; but we can go down to the river instead, and take it across in the ferry-boat. Then I can have our effects put upon shipboard, and then deliver the team to its purchaser and receive the price," added Lyon.

"Oh, but I am so delighted with the bare fact of our getting away so soon, that all things else seem of no account to me!" joyously exclaimed Sybil, going on with her packing.

The next morning Lyon went out alone to make a few more purchases for their voyage. While he was going around, he also bought all the daily papers that he could get hold of. He returned to Sybil at an early hour of the forenoon. He found her sitting down in idleness.

"Got entirely through packing, my darling?" he inquired cheerfully.

"Oh, yes, and I have nothing on earth to do now. How long this last day will seem! At what hour may we go on board, this evening?"

"At sundown."

"Oh, that it were now sundown! How shall we contrive to pa.s.s the time until then?"

"This will help us to pa.s.s the day, dear wife," he answered, laying the pile of newspapers on the table between them.

Each took up a paper and began to look over it.

Lyon was deep in a political article, when a cry from Sybil startled him.

"What is the matter?" he inquired, in alarm.

She did not answer. Her face was pale as ashes, and her eyes were strained upon the paper.

"What do you see there?" again inquired her husband.

"Oh, Lyon! Lyon! we are lost! we are lost!" she cried in a voice of agony.

In great anxiety he took the paper from her hand, and read the paragraph to which she pointed. It ran thus:

"It is now certain that Sybil Berners, accused of the murder of Rosa Blondelle, is not in Annapolis, as was falsely reported; but that she has escaped in disguise, accompanied by her husband, who is also in disguise; and that both are in the city of Norfolk."

Now it was Lyon's turn to grow pallid with fear, not for himself, but for one dearer to him than his own life. Still he tried to control his emotions, or at least to conceal them from her. He compelled himself to answer calmly:

"Take courage, my darling! We are before them. In a few more hours we shall be on board the ship."

Her hands were clasped tightly together; her eyes were fixed steadily upon his face; her own face was white as marble.

"Oh, Lyon! save me! Oh, my husband, save me! You _know_ that I am guiltless!" she prayed.

"Dearest wife, I will lay down my life for you, if necessary! Be comforted! See! it is now two o'clock! In two more hours we may be on shipboard!" he said.

"Let us go now! Let us go now!" she prayed, clasping her hands closely, gazing in his eyes beseechingly.

"Very well, we will go at once," he answered; and he took up his hat and hurried down stairs.

He told the landlord that, as the weather was now good, he thought he would risk the roads, and try to make a half-day's journey that afternoon, at least. And then, without waiting to hear the host's expostulations, he just told him to make out the bill, and then he went to the stables to put the horses to the wagon.

In half an hour all was ready for their departure--the bill paid, the wagon at the door, and the luggage piled into it. And Sybil and Lyon took leave of their temporary acquaintances; and Lyon handed Sybil up into her seat, climbed up after her, and started the horses at a brisk trot for the ferry-boat.

They reached Portsmouth in safety. Lyon drove down at once to the wharf, engaged a rowboat, put Sybil and all their effects into it, and rowed her across the water to where the Enterprise lay at anchor.

"Now I'm safe!" exclaimed Sybil, with a sigh of infinite relief, as she stepped upon the deck.

The captain did not expect his pa.s.sengers so soon, and he was busy; but he came forward and welcomed them, and showed them into the cabin, apologizing for its unready condition, consequent upon the bustle of their preparations for sailing.

Lyon left his wife in the Captain's care, and went back to the sh.o.r.e to complete the sale of his wagon and horses.

He was gone for nearly two hours, and when he returned he explained his long absence by saying that, after all, the hoped-for purchaser had refused to purchase, and that he had to leave his wagon and horses at a stable in Portsmouth, and to retire to a restaurant and write a letter to Captain Pendleton, and enclose an order for him to receive the property on paying the livery.

Sybil was satisfied--nay, she was delighted. In company with Lyon she walked up and down the deck, looking so joyous that the men about the place could but remark upon it as they gossipped with each other.

The new voyagers took supper in the Captain's cabin, and afterwards returned to the deck and remained on it until the sun set and the stars came out.

"Oh, this sense of release from danger! Oh, this delightful sense of freedom! And the heavenly starlit sky, and the beautiful water, and the delicious breeze. Oh, the world is so lovely! Oh, life and liberty is so sweet, so sweet! Oh, dear Lyon, I am so happy! And I love you so much!"

she exclaimed, almost delirious with joy at her great deliverance.

It was very late before Lyon could persuade her to leave the deck.

"I am too happy to sleep," she continually answered.

At length, however, he coaxed her to let him lead her to their state-room.

There, in the darkness and silence, she grew more composed, though not less happy. And in a few minutes after she had laid down, she fell asleep.

She slept very soundly until morning, when she was awakened by the cheerful chants of the sailors getting ready to make sail.

She lay a little while enjoying the joyous sounds that spoke to her so happily of liberty, and then she arose and dressed herself, and went up on deck, leaving Lyon still asleep.

The sun was just rising, and the harbor was beautiful. She walked about, talking now to the captain, and now to one of the men, and exciting wonder among them all, at her happiness.

At length she was joined by her husband, who had waked up the moment she had left him, and got up immediately, and dressed and followed her.

"Oh, Lyon! is not this a beautiful morning? And the Captain says the wind is fair, and we shall sail in half an hour!" was her greeting.

And Lyon pressed her hand in silence. A great weight of anxiety lay upon his heart; _he_ knew, if she did not, that she was not safe, even on shipboard, until the ship should really sail. And now his eyes were fixed upon a large rowboat that was rapidly crossing the water from the sh.o.r.e to the ship.