CHAPTER XIV.

THE TRIAL FOR LIFE.

If you condemn me, fie upon your law!

There is no right in the decrees of judges I stand for justice! Answer! Shall I have it?--SHAKESPEARE.

The awful contrast that there was between her appearance of the fairest freedom and her reality of the darkest bondage!

But she scarcely realized such a contrast until that morning, when she arose and threw open her south window and looked out upon her own beautiful home valley, now fresh with the verdure of early spring, and radiant with the light of the young day. A luminous haze like sifted gold-dust hung around the mountain tops; a dewy freshness sparkled on their wooded sides; and the river lay like a clear mirror below.

"Must she leave all this for the terrors of the court-room?" she inquired, with a shudder of her shrinking heart. And for a moment she felt that even the gloom of the prison might have better prepared her to meet the horrors of a trial for life, than this peaceful, bright home staying had done.

Yes, the contrast between her surroundings and her impending ordeal seemed an awful mockery of fate!

She knew that the court would open for the spring term that day; but she did not know that she would be wanted so soon.

They were all at breakfast that morning in the cheerful front parlor.

Mr. and Mrs. Berners, their protege Raphael, their little adopted baby-boy Cromartie, who always sat in a high chair beside his benefactress, Beatrix Pendleton who was resolved to stay with Sybil to the last, and Tabitha Winterose who sat at the head of the table to serve out the coffee and tea, because Sybil had said that everything tasted better coming from "Old Tabby's" hand--these were all gathered around the table, when Sheriff Fortescue was announced and entered the room.

"You have come for me!" said Sybil, in a low, terrified tone, as she arose from her seat before any one else could move or speak.

"Resume your seat, Mrs. Berners, and finish your breakfast. There is no hurry," answered the old gentleman, as calmly as he could.

Then he saluted the party, shook hands with Mr. Berners, and accepted the seat offered him by Joe.

"She is wanted this morning?" inquired Mr. Berners, in a low voice.

The sheriff bowed gravely in a.s.sent.

Sybil had been kindly pressed to resume her seat and finish her breakfast. She sank back into her chair indeed, but could not eat another morsel. Nor could any one else at the table, not even poor little Cro', who saw by the faces of all around that something terrible had happened, or was about to do so.

The meal was at an end. The breakfast party arose in trepidation.

"Is she wanted now, immediately?" hastily inquired Lyon Berners.

The sheriff again bowed in a.s.sent, but added:

"I do not wish to hurry her."

"I will not keep you waiting, Mr. Fortescue," said Sybil, trying to steady her voice, as she prepared to leave the room.

But here little Cro', who had been watching every body anxiously, found out by some process of his own that the terrible thing which was going to happen threatened Sybil, and he slid down from his high chair at the risk of breaking his limbs, and ran to her and clung to her dress.

"Take him away, Miss Tabby! Sybil is going to Blackville, Cro', and she will bring Cro' some candy, when she comes back," she said, tenderly placing the child in Miss Winterose's arms.

Mr. Berners told Joe to have the carriage brought around and to prepare to drive it, and then he gave his arm to Sybil, who really needed its support in going up to her chamber.

Beatrix followed her.

Raphael walked up and down the length of the breakfast-room, in uncontrollable agitation.

Miss Tabby clasped the child to her bosom, and rocking him and herself to and fro, wept and sobbed bitterly.

"And as for me, I feel like a hangman," muttered old Mr. Fortescue to himself as he stood looking moodily out of the window.

Mr. Fortescue had not been high sheriff very long, and was new to the ghastly duties of his office, to be sure, he might have easily deputed this irksome task to another, but he chose to perform it himself, lest that others should not do it so kindly.

In a few moments Sybil returned, ready for her drive.

She was dressed--her dress was afterwards minutely described in the county paper, and also in many others that reported the trial--she was dressed then in a light gray suit throughout, bonnet, mantle, and gown being of the same material, and even gloves and veil of the same hue; a pale blush rose relieved the neutral shade of her bonnet, and a ribbon of the same delicate tint fastened her small linen collar.

Beatrix Pendleton, in a black silk suit, with a black lace bonnet and shawl, followed her.

Beatrix, with the warm approbation of her brother, had determined to sit in the dock, beside Sybil. She, the falsely accused lady, should not go there unsupported by the presence of another lady.

"Good-bye, Raphael! good-bye, Miss Tabby! I hope to be back this evening. Good-bye, dear little Cro'! Sybil will bring you something good, when she comes," said Mrs. Berners, with all the cheerfulness she could command.

But Raphael turned pale as death when he silently gave her his hand.

Miss Tabby could not speak, for hysterical sobs.

Little Cro' cried outright.

To shorten this trying scene, Mr. Berners drew his wife's arm within his own and led her to the carriage. He had just settled her in the back seat, when little Nelly rushed past everybody, and ran up the steps, and crouched breathless and palpitating at the feet of her mistress.

"Yes; let her stay, Lyon," said Sybil, lifting the faithful little creature to her lap.

Mr. Berners next helped Miss Pendleton to a seat beside his wife, then entered the carriage and took his place opposite Sybil, while Mr.

Fortescue got in and sat down in the fourth seat, facing Beatrix.

And Joe got his order to drive on towards Blackville.

Scarcely a word was spoken for the first mile. It was Sybil who broke the silence.

"Will my counsel meet me at the court, Mr. Fortescue?" she inquired.

"They are waiting for you, Madam. Mr. Worth has arrived, and is in earnest consultation with Mr. Sheridan," gently replied Mr. Fortescue.

"How long do you think the trial will last, Mr. Fortescue?" tremblingly inquired Sybil.

"It is quite impossible to form an opinion, madam," replied the Sheriff.

"My dear Sybil," said Lyon Berners, "let us hope and trust that the trial will be short, and the result acquittal. Keep up your courage."

But he who gave her this advice found his own heart fast failing him. He could fearlessly have met his fate in his own person; but in the person of his beloved wife--

Fortunately for our unhappy party, it was not generally known that the accused lady would be put on trial this day; so when they drove into Blackville, they found no more than the usual little crowd about the hotel and the court-house.