"It is not a pleasant visit, Mrs. Berners, this one to Mr. Hawkin's office; but it will only be a preliminary examination, and I will do what I can to make it a brief one," explained Mr. Sheridan, as he offered his arm to his client to conduct her from the room.

Sybil drew her veil over her face, and leaning on the arm of her counsel, was about to follow the sheriff, who had gone before, when she happened to think of her devoted young worshipper, who was standing disconsolately near the judge's desk.

"Stay here until I return, dear Raphael," she said, with a pleasant smile, and then pa.s.sed from the room.

They took her to an office under the hotel, where the sitting magistrate was ready to hear the case.

A few witnesses were there--persons who had been present at the mask ball, and had observed the marked attentions of Lyon Berners to Rosa Blondelle, and the jealous rage of Sybil, and who had afterwards been drawn to the scene of the tragedy by the cries of the victim, and had arrived in time to hear the fatal charge of the dying woman, as well as to behold her death.

When Sybil saw these people, she shivered and turned pale--not with fear of their testimony, for she had nerved herself to meet that, but with the sudden recollection of the appalling circ.u.mstances under which she had last met them, and which their appearance now called up in all its first horror.

The magistrate's clerk now handed Sybil a chair. She then raised her veil, bowed to Squire Hawkins, and took her seat.

The proceedings were commenced.

The witnesses for the prosecution were one after the other duly sworn and examined; and they deposed to the fatally condemning circ.u.mstances attending the murder of Rosa Blondelle as they are already known to the reader.

This examination occupied about an hour. At its close the magistrate turned to the accused lady, and inquired what she had to say in defence.

Sybil arose, and answered by giving the explanation that she had already made, on the night of the murder.

The magistrate heard her through, but then instructed her that her unsupported a.s.sertion was no evidence, and would not be received as such, and called upon her to produce her witnesses.

Sybil was about to answer that she had no witnesses to produce, when a look from her counsel arrested her speech.

He respectfully took her hand, replaced her in her seat, and then standing up, he said:

"My client has given a true explanation of the facts that have led so many persons to a false conclusion. But all further defence, we reserve for a higher tribunal."

And having said this, he sat down. He knew that no amount of defence would now save Sybil from being committed for trial, and his object was therefore to shorten this ordeal.

The magistrate then directed his clerk to make out the mittimus. When the instrument was ready, he signed it and looked around for some officer to execute it.

"I will take charge of the warrant and the lady," said the high sheriff, interposing.

"You, Mr. Fortescue!" exclaimed the magistrate, in surprise at the condescension of the high sheriff.

"Yes, I," coolly answered the latter.

"But Mr. Magistrate, we are prepared to offer bail," put in Sybil's counsel.

"Not a bailable case, Mr. Sheridan, as you, being a lawyer, should be very well aware. No case in which the prisoner is arrested upon the charge of a capital crime can be bailed."

"I believe you speak of a rule. I speak of an exception. This lady was not arrested. She came forward, in the consciousness of innocence, and gave herself up, fairly challenging a trial! It is not likely, therefore, that she would run away, if released upon bail."

"Quibbles, sir! quibbles! I know of no exceptions to this rule! Mr.

Sheriff, remove the prisoner."

Mr. Fortescue drew Sybil's arm within his own, and whispered to her:

"I will take you back to the Judge's room, where we will remain while Sheridan goes before the Court and puts in an application for bail."

Sybil drew her veil again before her face as she was led from the magistrate's office back to the Judge's room, where she found her young escort, still anxiously awaiting her.

"It is all right, Raphael," she said, "or rather it will be all right very soon! Will it not, Mr. Fortescue?"

"I trust and believe so, madam."

"The magistrate insisted that my case was not a bailable one, and indeed I knew that much myself; but the Judge said that he would admit me to bail, and he can do so, can he not?" anxiously inquired Sybil.

"The magistrate told you the truth; and besides, he had no power to act in the matter of releasing you on bail; but your case is a very exceptional one, Mrs. Berners, and the judge has very great discretionary powers, which I am sure he will stretch to the utmost in your behalf."

"I hope without risk to his own position."

The high sheriff smiled.

"Judge Ruthven," he said, "is the most distinguished jurist, as well as the most honored judge and the most popular man that ever presided in our courts. His proceedings become precedents. He can venture to do a great deal. He can afford to risk much!"

While they talked thus together, Mr. Sheridan reentered the room, with a very cheerful expression on his countenance.

"All will be well," he said, brightly. "Mr. Sheriff, I bear you the Judge's order to bring your charge into court. Mrs. Berners, you will meet some friends there, and will, with them, enter into a recognizance for your appearance at court when called to trial."

Sybil promptly arose and gave her hand to Mr. Fortescue, who drew it within his arm and led her out of the room, and then from the hotel to the court-house.

The court-room was, comparatively speaking, empty. The crowd that had collected to hear a trial for forgery, which was just ended in the acquittal of the prisoner, had dispersed at its close; and no one remained but the presiding judge, the officers of the court, a few lawyers and a group of gentlemen.

As Sybil was led up the aisle, between the rows of benches usually occupied by spectators, one of the gentlemen turned around, and to her joy and amazement, revealed the countenance of Lyon Berners. If the dead had risen before her, Sybil could scarcely have been more astounded. He, from whose bleeding and insensible body, she had been torn away, scarcely five days before, now stood before her, ill, pale, faint, but living. His head was bound up with a white linen bandage as, leaning on the arm of Captain Pendleton, he came to meet her.

"Oh, my dear Sybil!"

"My dearest Lyon!"

These were the words with which they greeted each other.

"Now, my friends, leave all this until you return together to Black Hall. Now we must not keep the court waiting, but proceed to business,"

said Mr. Sheridan, taking the hand of his client, and drawing it again through his arm, as he led her up to a table that stood before the bar and upon which was spread out a formidable looking piece of parchment heavily engrossed.

"Here is the bond by which you enter, with your husband, with Captain Pendleton and Miss Beatrix Pendleton, into a recognizance for your appearance at court when called to trial. The amount of bail is high, fifty thousand dollars! But I fancy you are good for that," said the young lawyer.

Sybil smiled gravely, and when the pen was put into her hand, signed her name.

Her signature was followed by those of Lyon Berners, Clement Pendleton, and Beatrix Pendleton.

And the bond being duly sealed and delivered, Sybil was informed that she was free to depart.

Free to depart! No more need of flying and hiding! Free to go home, to sit down in peace by her own dear fireside, to lie down and repose on her own comfortable bed! Free to depart! Free to go home! Oh, joy!

Sybil, in her delight, forgot that the darkest thunder-cloud of fate still lowered in the sky, threatening to break in destruction on her head!

Disregarding all forms, she was about to go up to the bench to pour forth her thanksgivings to her old friend Judge Ruthven, when her husband laid his hand upon her shoulder and stopped her, whispering: