"I will do so! When shall we start?"

"Let me see--how far is Blackville from this place?"

"About five miles."

"And how is the road?"

"As bad as a road can be."

"Could we reach the village on foot?"

"Better on foot than in a carriage, or on horseback; because the foot way is shorter. By the road it is five miles; by a foot-path that I know, which is almost a bee-line, it is not more than half that distance."

"We will go on foot, then," said Sybil, rising.

"When?" inquired the lad, following her example.

"Now. We will set out at once! No one notices our position now. If we were to return to the house, we might be observed and watched."

"I am ready," said the boy, closing his portfolio, and hiding it under a flat piece of rock, where he thought it would be equally safe from trespa.s.sers and from the elements.

"Let us go," said Sybil.

"This way then, madam," replied the lad, leading the way to the woods.

"I have another reason for haste," Sybil explained as they went on. "I know that the court is now in session at Blackville, and that the judge has rooms at the hotel. I know also that the court takes a recess at one o'clock. It is now eleven; if we make moderate haste, we can reach the village in time to find the judge and secure an immediate interview. Do you not think so?"

"Oh yes, madam, certainly."

"Does this path become more difficult as we descend?" inquired Sybil, as they threaded their way along an obscure, disused foot-path, leading down the narrow thickly wooded valley.

"Oh, no, madam, not more difficult, but much less so. It is a very, very gradual descent down to the outlet of the valley. By the way, did you ever observe, Mrs. Berners, how much all these long, narrow, tortuous vales between the spurs of the mountains, and leading down to the great valley, resemble the beds of water-courses emptying into some great river?" inquired the boy artist, looking with interest into the face of his companion.

"Oh yes, and many geologists declare them to have been really such,"

replied Sybil.

In such discourse as this, they beguiled the hour and a half that they spent in walking down this hidden valley to its opening near the ferry-house, on the Black river, opposite to Blackville.

Here, while waiting for the boat, which was on the other side, Sybil drew her thick black veil closely over her face, and whispered to her companion:

"I would not, upon any account, be recognized until I get before the judge. So I will keep my face covered, and my lips closed. You must make all the necessary inquiries, and do all the talking."

"I will do anything on earth to serve you, lady," replied the lad, lifting his hat.

"And now here it comes," whispered Sybil, as the ferry-boat touched the sh.o.r.e.

He handed her in, and placed her on a comfortable seat.

After that Sybil never removed her veil or opened her lips. But the boy talked a little with the ferry-man until they reached the opposite sh.o.r.e.

They landed, and went immediately up to the hotel.

"Is Judge Ruthven in?" inquired the lad.

"Yes, sir," answered the waiter.

"Is he disengaged?"

"I will see, sir. He has just finished luncheon," answered the man.

"Tell him that a lady wishes to speak to him on important business,"

said the boy.

The waiter left the room, and after an absence of five minutes returned to say that the judge would see the lady, and that he, the waiter, would show her up.

"This may be my last hour of freedom in this world!" murmured Sybil to herself, as, preceded by the waiter and attended by her escort, she went up stairs.

The door of a private parlor was thrown open, and Sybil Berners entered and stood before her judge.

CHAPTER XII.

A WISE AND GOOD OLD MAN.

A just judge; by the craft of the law, Ne'er seduced from its purpose.--SOUTHEY.

The room was a private parlor, furnished something like a lawyer's office.

In an ample cushioned chair, beside a large desk laden with books and papers, sat a venerable old gentleman of a portly form, fine features, fresh complexion, and long silvery white hair. He was dressed in jet black cloth and snow-white linen. His whole appearance expressed great power, benevolence, and equanimity.

This was Judge Joseph Ruthven, the learned jurist and eminent philanthropist, who had succeeded the lately deceased judge, on the bench of the criminal court.

He arose, with a suave and stately courtesy, to receive his lady visitor.

As the waiter withdrew and closed the door, Sybil approached the judge, and lifted her veil.

"Sybil, my child! Mrs. Berners!" he said, suppressing with his habitual self-control, the exclamations of astonishment that arose to his lips.

He had been the life-long intimate friend of her father. He had known her from her birth, and in her childhood he had held her on his knee a hundred times. It was horrible to see her there before him, and to _foresee_ what must follow. Who can blame him, if at that moment he wished her thousands of miles away from him, with the ocean rolling between them?

"I have come, your honor, to give myself up to justice, trusting that justice indeed may be meted out to me," said Sybil, as she sank trembling into the chair that he placed for her. He was scarcely less agitated than herself.

"I am guiltless of the crime with which I stand charged; and I can no longer bear the hiding and hunted life of a criminal! I now freely offer myself for trial, come what will of it! It is better to die a guiltless death than to live an outlawed life!" Sybil repeated, her flesh trembling, but her spirit firm.

Still the judge did not speak, but gazed on her with infinite compa.s.sion.