And then all became still as death.

Meanwhile the judge sat calmly on the bench, the only evidence of his strongly suppressed anxiety was the extreme paleness of his venerable face. What was pa.s.sing in his mind during this time of awful stillness and waiting, in which the earth seemed arrested in her orbit, the sun stopped in his course? The dread question, should he, with more than Roman courage, be obliged to pa.s.s sentence of death on that child of his old friend, that young high-born, refined, and beautiful woman, whom from the depths of his soul he believed to be perfectly innocent?

Meanwhile Sybil Berners, her face bloodless, her frame almost pulseless, breathless as with suspended animation, leaned upon her husband's breast and waited for the verdict that was to give her life or death.

Both pale as herself, her husband and her friend sat, the first on her right side and the second on her left, as they sit by the dying, supporting her as best they might, her husband's arm around her waist, her friend's hand clasping hers.

The hour wore slowly on. The room grew dark. But the judge did not adjourn the court. He thought, most likely, it was better for all concerned to end the agony that night if possible.

At length the lamps were lighted, and their beams fell upon the pallid group of friends, upon whom the doom of death seemed already to have descended; and further on, upon the "sea of heads" that now filled the court-room and--waited for the verdict; for the crowd had greatly increased since the commencement of the trial.

At length the hush of silence was stirred by a motion near the door of the jury-room.

Sybil's weary head still rested on her husband's bosom; he gathered her in a closer embrace, that she might not look up until she should be compelled to do so.

She was too inexperienced to know what that little stir that moved the stillness meant.

The door of the jury-room was thrown open by the deputy-sheriff, and the jury filed into the court, and stood in a group near the bench.

All hearts stood still. The face of the venerable judge turned a shade paler.

The clerk of arraigns arose, and addressing the jury, inquired:

"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?"

"We have," solemnly answered the foreman, on the part of his colleagues.

"Prisoner, stand up and look upon the jury," proceeded the clerk, addressing Sybil.

"Rise, my darling, rise!" said the heart-broken husband of the lady, as he helped her to her feet.

Sybil stood up, still leaning on his arm.

"Look on those men there!" whispered Lyon Berners.

"Where? Where?" inquired Sybil, in perplexity, for the court-room was but dimly lighted, and her brain was half dazed with horror.

"There, my darling, there!" muttered Lyon Berners, pointing to the jury.

"Prisoner, look upon the jury!" repeated the clerk.

Sybil turned her glazing eyes towards the group.

"Jurymen, look upon the prisoner!" continued the clerk.

They looked, and some among them must have seen that the doom they were about to p.r.o.nounce in verdict could never be carried into effect.

The clerk proceeded.

"How say you, gentlemen of the jury; is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty of the felony laid to her charge?"

CHAPTER XVI.

CONDEMNED.

And in that deep and utter agony, Though then, than ever, most unfit to die, I fell upon my knees and prayed for death.--MATURIN.

"Guilty!"

The word tolled like a knell through the air.

Silence like death followed.

Some one pa.s.sed to the judge a gla.s.s of water. His hand shook so that he spilled it.

Then he arose, trembling so much that he leaned for support on the stand before him. Yet he did his duty--the last duty he was ever to do on that bench.

"Prisoner at the bar, stand up."

She was raised to her feet, and supported in the arms of her husband.

"Sybil Berners! What have you to say why sentence of death should not be p.r.o.nounced against you?"

Nothing. She had not understood the question. She did not answer it.

There is a point in suffering at which the soul becomes insensible of it. While waiting for the verdict, Sybil had gradually pa.s.sed into an abnormal state, which, without being a dream, resembled one. Her spirit was s.n.a.t.c.hed away from the present scene. She was in the village church, and not in the court-room. The Judge on the bench was her old pastor in his pulpit. He was preaching, she thought; but something ailed her head, for she could not understand the drift of his discourse. And the church was so crowded, that she felt half-suffocated in it.

Amid the breathless, pulseless silence, the doom of death was spoken.

Not one word of it all did Sybil comprehend. But she felt as if the evening service was over, and the people were rising to leave the church.

"Come, Lyon," she breathed, with a deep sigh, "it is over at last, and oh! I am so tired! Take me home."

Take her home! Alas for the heart-broken husband! He would have given his own body to be burned to death, if by doing so he could have taken her home. But he knew that, in all human probability, she could never go home again.

"One moment, darling," he whispered, and sat her down again to await the action of the sheriff.

Mr. Fortescue soon came up.

"Mr. Berners," he said, in a broken voice, "I am an old man, and I had rather die than do my present duty."

"Oh, do what must be done, do it at once, do it yourself, for no one else would do it so kindly," answered Lyon Berners.

"You know where I must take her?"

"Certainly."