"Certainly, do all that; and if you should be as kind and considerate of her as may be consistent with your duty, her friends will be sure to reward you handsomely," answered Mr. Fortescue.

"Well, I'd do that any way, I think, for any poor woman in such a depth of trouble, reward or no reward," replied the kind-hearted warden.

The two men then went up to the young prisoner.

"I will take you up to your room now, ma'am, if you please," said the warden.

This aroused Sybil. She looked up suddenly and said:

"I am afraid we are putting you to much inconvenience Mr.--Mr.--"

"Martin," added the sheriff.

"--Mr. Martin; but the suddenness of this thunder-storm, you know. And we were all at church, and--"

She lost the connection of her ideas, ceased to speak, put her hand to her forehead in perplexity for a moment, and then relapsed into apathetic reverie.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the old warden, in dismay. "Why, she's a losing of her mind, an't she?"

"Yes, thank Heaven!" answered Sybil's husband earnestly.

"But--but--in such a case they will never carry the sentence out?"

inquired the warden, in an eager whisper.

"Yes, they will; but she will never know what hurts her," grimly replied Captain Pendleton.

The old warden sighed. And then he warned the visitors that it was time for them to go, as he wanted to lock up the prison for the night.

"Is it not possible that I remain with my wife to-night? You see her condition," said Lyon Berners, appealing to the sheriff and the warden, and pointing to poor Sybil, whose wildly dilated eyes were fixed upon vacancy, while her fingers idly played with the gray curls of the little Skye terrier on her lap.

"Mr. Berners, my heart bleeds at refusing you anything in this hour of bitter sorrow; but--" began the sheriff.

"I see! I see! You cannot grant my request! I should have known it and refrained from asking," interrupted Lyon Berners.

At this point Beatrix Pendleton, who had been sitting beside Sybil, deliberately took off her gloves, bonnet, and lace shawl, and laid them on a table near, saying quietly,

"I shall stay with my friend. Mr. Martin, I don't think you will turn me out in the storm to-night. And, Mr. Sheriff, I _know_ that women-friends are often permitted to be in the cell with women prisoners."

"Miss Pendleton," said the sheriff, before the warden could speak, "there is not the slightest objection to your remaining with your friend, if you please to do so. Women in her sad position are always allowed a female companion in the cell. It is usually, however, a female warder."

"Thank you, Mr. Fortescue! I will be Sybil's warder, or her fellow-prisoner, as you please, that is, with Mr. Martin's consent. He has not spoken yet," said Beatrix, appealing to the warden.

"My dear young lady, I would no more turn you out in the storm, as you call it, then I would turn my own daughter out. Of course you will stay if you please, though, bless my heart, the trouble is usually to keep people here, not to send them away. They come unwillingly enough. They go away gladly," said the old man.

"My dear Beatrix, you do well! you do n.o.bly!" whispered her brother, pressing her hand.

"Miss Pendleton, how shall I thank you? May the Lord, who makes up all our shortcomings, reward you infinitely!" said Lyon Berners, fervently pressing her hand.

"I think we had better end this interview now," whispered the sheriff.

Lyon Berners turned to look at his wife. She was still sitting in the same dreamy, abstracted, unconscious manner.

"Sybil, my darling, good-night," he said, stooping and kissing her.

"Why," she exclaimed, with a nervous start, "where are you going?"

"Listen, dear," said Lyon, gently. "Mr. Martin has got but one spare room, and that must be appropriated to you and Beatrix. Clement and myself will have to find accommodations somewhere in the village."

"Oh," she said. And then, "Yes." And so she relapsed into apathy.

Lyon Berners kissed her, and turned away to conceal the tears that rushed to his eyes.

Captain Pendleton pressed her hand in silence. And then they both took leave of Miss Pendleton, and went away with the sheriff.

Sybil and Beatrix were left alone with a warden in the office.

Mr. Martin had been the overseer of Pendleton Park in old Mr.

Pendleton's time; and he owed his present position as warden of the county prison mainly to the influence of Captain Pendleton. So that he was well acquainted with Miss Pendleton, whom he had every grateful reason for serving.

He came to her now, saying apologetically:

"I am sorry I can't offer my old employer's daughter better accommodation; but I will give her the best room in the house."

"Thank you, Mr. Martin; but I wish to stay in the cell with my friend,"

answered Beatrix.

"My dear young lady, I thought you understood that you were to stay with her, but not in a cell; I thought you knew that you were to occupy a room together. But oh! now I recollect, it was only with the sheriff that I talked of it," explained the old man; and as he spoke the door opened, and a middle-aged woman appeared, and said:

"Father, the room is ready."

"Come, then, Miss Pendleton, follow us," said the warden, as he took Sybil's hand, drew it under his arm, and walked on before.

He led them up a flight of stairs to a good-sized and neatly furnished bed-chamber, with nothing about it to remind its inmates that they were in a prison.

Here the warden, after seeing that the windows were carefully secured, left the friends together, taking the precaution to double lock and bolt the door upon them.

Beatrix turned to look at her companion. Sybil was sitting twirling her fingers, and gazing down on the little dog that lay upon her lap.

"Come, darling!" said Beatrix, tenderly, "let me help you to undress.

That bed looks clean and comfortable. You must lie down on it and go to sleep."

Sybil made no answer, and no resistance. Beatrix undressed her, and then remembered that they had no personal conveniences for the night whatever, neither bed-gowns nor combs nor brushes; but the weather was warm, and so some of these necessaries might well be dispensed with until the morning.

She led Sybil to the bed, and urged her to lie down. But the force of habit was omnipotent; and in spite of her waning sanity, Sybil suddenly recollected a duty never omitted, and said:

"Let me say my prayers first."

So she knelt down.