Cruel As the Grave 24 – Southworth · Verses Across
Literature · Romance
Cruel As the Grave 24The Verdict and the Visitor
18
Literature · Romance
Cruel As the Grave 24
The Verdict and the Visitor
SouthworthEnglish
Can such things be,
And overcome us like a summer cloud
Without our special wonder?--Shakespeare.
"Pendleton! oh! Heaven, Pendleton! What news?" exclaimed Lyon Berners, starting up to greet him.
"Good heaven! Berners! How is this? Another--a servant taken into your confidence, and trusted with the secret of your retreat!" cried Captain Pendleton in dismay.
"He is trustworthy! I will vouch for his fidelity! But oh! Pendleton! What news? what news?" exclaimed Lyon Berners in an agony of impatience.
"The worst that you can anticipate!" cried Captain Pendleton in a voice full of sorrow.
"Oh! my unhappy wife! The coroner's jury have found their verdict then?" groaned Lyon.
Captain Pendleton bowed his head. He was unable to reply in words.
"And that verdict is--Oh! speak I let me hear the worst!--that verdict is--"
"Wilful Murder!" muttered Pendleton in a hoarse and choking voice.
"Against--against--whom?" gasped Lyon Berners white as death.
"Oh Heaven! You know! Do not ask me to sully her name with the words!" cried Captain Pendleton, utterly overcome by his emotions.
"Oh, my unhappy wife! Oh, my lost Sybil!" exclaimed Lyon Berners, reeling under the blow, half-expected though it might have been.
There was silence for a few minutes. Pendleton was the first to recover himself. He went up to his friend, touched him on the shoulder, and said:
"Berners, rouse yourself; the position requires the exertion of your utmost powers of mind and body. Calm yourself, and collect all your faculties. Come now let us sit down here and talk over the situation."
Lyon permitted the captain to draw him away to a little distance, where they both sat down side by side, on a fallen tombstone.
"In the first place, how is your wife, and how does she sustain herself under this overwhelming disaster?" inquired Captain Pendleton, forcing himself to speak composedly.
"I do not think my dear innocent Sybil was able fully to appreciate the danger of her position, even as she stood before the rendering of that false and fatal verdict, she was so strong in her sense of innocence. She seemed to suffer most from the lesser evils involved in her exile from home."
"Where is she, then?"
"Sleeping heavily in the church there; sleeping very heavily, from the united effects of mental and bodily fatigue and excitement."
"Heaven grant that she may sleep long and well. And now, Berners, to our plans. You must know that I kept a horse saddled and tied in the woods down by the river, and as soon as that lying verdict was rendered, I hurried off, leaped into my saddle and galloped here. I forded the river, and have left my horse just below here, at the entrance of this thicket. I must soon mount and away again on your service."
"Oh, my dear Pendleton, how shall I ever repay you?"
"By keeping up a stout heart until this storm-cloud blows over, as it must, in a few days or weeks. But now to business. How came this man Joe here?"
Mr. Berners explained how Joe had overheard all their conversation while they were making their arrangements, and taken pains to co-operate with them, and had followed them here with some necessary provisions. And he, Mr. Berners, closed with a eulogy on Joe's fidelity and discretion.
"I am very glad to hear what you tell me, for it relieves my mind of a very great weight. I knew that there had been a listener to our conversation, for I almost ran against him as I went into the house; but as he made his escape before I could identify him, I was very anxious on the subject. So you may judge what a burden is lifted from my mind by the discovery that he was no other than honest Joe, whom Providence sent in the way. But why he ran from me, I cannot imagine.
"He was a little jealous, a little sulky, and somewhat fearful of being blamed, I suppose. But tell me, Pendleton, has our flight been discovered yet?" inquired Mr. Berners, anxiously.
"No, nor even suspected; at least, not up to the time that I left Black Hall. Mrs. Berners was supposed to be in her chamber. I warned all the men, and requested my sister to caution all the women, against knocking at her door."
"And I, who must have been expected to be on the spot?" asked Lyon.
"You were often asked for. Fortunately for you, there is a well-known weakness in human nature to pretend to know all about everything that may be inquired into. And so, every time you chanced to be inquired for by one party, you were accounted for by another. Some said you were with Mrs. Berners; others that you had gone to Blackville on pressing business connected with the tragedy. And these last authorities came to be believed; so that when I slipped away I left the people momentarily expecting your return."
"Whom did you leave there?"
"Everybody--the coroner's jury and all the guests of the house, who had been detained as witnesses."
"Then all our friends heard the fatal verdict?"
"All."
"Was there--a warrant issued?" gasped Lyon Berners, scarcely able to utter the words.
"Ah, yes; the issue of the warrant was the first intimation I had of the fatal nature of the verdict. It was put in the hands of an officer, with orders to be on the watch and serve it as soon as Mrs. Berners should come out of her chamber, but not to knock at the door, or molest her while she remained in it."
Lyon Berners groaned deeply, and buried his face in his hands.
"Come, come! bear up, that you may sustain her!" said Captain Pendleton. "And now listen: Your flight, as I told you, was not suspected up to the time I left Black Hall. It will not be discovered probably until late this evening, when it will be too late for the authorities to take any immediate measures of pursuit. We have, therefore, this afternoon and to-night to perfect our plans. Only you need to bring steady nerves and a clear head to the task."
"What do you suggest, Pendleton?"
"First of all, that during this night, which is ours, all necessary conveniences be brought here to support your life for a few days, for you must not leave this safe refuge immediately--to do so would be to fall into the hands of the law."
"I see that," sighed Mr. Berners.
"I, then, with the help of this faithful Joe, will bring to you here to-night such things as you and Mrs. Berners will actually need, for the few days that you must remain. As to all your affairs at the Hall, I counsel you to give me a written authority to act for you in your absence. I have brought writing materials for the purpose; and when you have written it, I will myself take it and drop it secretly into the post-office at Blackville, so that it may reach me regularly through the mail, and help to mislead everybody to whom I shall show it, into the idea that you have gone away through Blackville. Will you write it now?" inquired Captain Pendleton, drawing from his pocket a rolled writing-case, containing all that was requisite for the work.
"A thousand thanks, Pendleton. I do not see how in the name of Heaven we could have managed without you," replied Berners, as he took the case, unrolled it on his knee, and proceeded to write the required "power of attorney."
"And now," said the Captain, when he received the document, "now we must be getting back. The sun is quite low, and we have much to do. Come, Joe, are you ready?"
"Yes, Massa Capping; ready and waitin' on you too. I ought to be at the mill now, 'fore the miller shuts it up."
Captain Pendleton then shook hands with Mr. Berners, and Joe pulled his front lock of wool by way of a deferential adieu, and both left the spot and disappeared in the thicket.
But it was not until the last sound of their retreating steps, crashing through the dried bushes, had died away, that Lyon Berners turned and went into the church.
As he entered, a singular phenomenon, almost enough to confirm the reputation of the place as "haunted ground," met his view.
All in one instant his eyes took in these things: First, Sybil covered over with the dark riding skirt, and still sleeping by the smouldering fire; but sleeping uneasily, and muttering in her sleep. Secondly, the four prints of the western windows laid in sunshine on the floor. Thirdly, a shadow that slipped swiftly athwart this sunshine, and disappeared as if it had sunk into the floor on the right of the altar. And in the same moment Sybil, with a half-suppressed shriek, started up, and stared wildly around, exclaiming:
"Oh! what is this? Where am I? Who was she?" Lyon Berners hastened to his wife, saying soothingly:
"Sybil, wake up, darling; you have been dreaming."
"But what does all this mean? Where are we? What strange place is this?" she cried, throwing back her long dark hair, and shading her eyes with her hands, as she gazed around.
"Dearest wife, take time to compose yourself, and you will remember all. A sudden and terrible catastrophe has driven us from our home. You have had a heavy sleep since that, and you find it difficult to awake to the truth," said Lyon Berners tenderly, as he sat down by her side, and sought to soothe her.
"Oh! I know now! I remember all now! my fatal fancy ball! Rosa Blondelle's mysterious murder! Our sudden flight! All! O! Heavens, all!" cried Sybil, dropping her face upon her hands.
Lyon Berners put his arm around her, and drew her to his bosom. But he did not speak; he thought it better to leave her to collect herself in silence.
After a few moments, she looked up again, and looked all around the church, and then gazed into her husband's eyes, and inquired:
"But Lyon, who was she? and where has she gone?"
"Who was who, dear Sybil? I don't understand," answered Mr. Berners, in surprise.
"That gipsy-like girl in the red cloak; who was bending over me, and staring into my face, just as you came in?"
"There was no such girl near you, or even in the church, my dear," said Mr. Berners.
"But indeed there was; she started away just as I woke up."
"My dearest Sybil, you have been dreaming."
"Indeed no; I saw her as plainly as I see you now: a girl in a red cloak, with such an elfin face I shall never forget it; such small piercing black eyes; such black eyebrows, depressed towards the nose, and raised high towards the temples, giving such an eldritch, mischievous, even dangerous expression to the whole dark countenance; and such wild black hair streaming around her shoulders."
"A very vivid dream you have had, dear wife, and that is all."
"I tell you no! she was bending over me; looking at me; and she fled away just as I woke up."
"My darling, I will convince you out of your own mouth. She ran away, you say, just as you woke up; therefore you did not see her after you were awake, but only while you slept, in your dreams. Besides, dear, I was here when you woke up, and I saw no one near you, or even in the building," persisted Lyon Berners--though at that moment he did recall to mind the shadow that he had seen slip past all the sunshine on the floor, and disappear as if it had sunk under the slabs on the right side of the altar.
"Lyon," said Sybil, solemnly, "I do not like to contradict you, but as I hope to be saved, I saw that girl, not in a dream, but in reality; and since you do not know anything about her, I begin to think the apparition mysterious and alarming. Let me tell you all about it."
"Well, tell me, dear, if to do so will do you any good," said Mr. Berners indulgently, but incredulously.
"Listen, then. I was in a dead sleep, oh, such a deep dead sleep, that I seemed to be away down in the bottom of some deep cave, when I felt a heavy breathing or panting over my face, and was conscious of somebody leaning over me, and looking at me. I tried to wake, but could not, I could not lift myself up out of that deep dark cave of sleep. But at last I felt a hand near my throat, trying to unfasten this golden locket that contains your miniature. Then I struggled, and succeeded in throwing off the spell and waking up. As soon as I opened my eyes I saw the wild eldritch face, with its keen bright black eyes and queer eyebrows, and snake-like black locks, running down over the red cloak. The instant I saw this, I cried out, and the girl fled, and you hurried up. Now call that a dream if you can, for I tell you I saw that figure start up and run away from me as plainly as I saw you come up. One event was as real as the other," concluded Sybil.
Lyon Berners did not at once reply, for he thought again of the flitting shadow he had seen cross the sunshine, and disappear as if it had sunk into the flagstones on the right side of the altar. And he mentally admitted the bare possibility that some intruder had entered the church and looked upon Sybil in her sleep, and fled at her awakening. But fled whither? The windows were very high, the wall was smooth beneath them; no one could have climbed to them, for there was no foothold or handhold to assist one in the ascent, and there was but the one door by which he himself had entered, at the same moment the strange visitor was said to have fled, and he was quite sure that no one had passed him. Besides, the shadow that he had seen vanished beside the altar, at the upper end of the church. Lyon Berners knew not what to think of all that he had seen and heard within the last quarter of an hour. But one thing was quite certain, that it was absolutely necessary to Sybil's safety to ascertain whether any stranger had really entered the church, or even come upon the premises.
"Well," inquired Sybil, seeing that he still remained silent, "what do you think now, Lyon?"
"I think," he answered promptly, "that I will search the church."
"There is not a hiding-place for anything bigger than a rat or a bird," said his wife, glancing around upon the bare walls, floor, and ceiling.
Nevertheless Lyon Berners walked up to the side of the altar where he had seen the shadow disappear. Sybil followed close behind him. He examined the altar all around. It was built of stonework like the church; that was the reason it had stood so long. But he experienced a great surprise when he looked at the side where the shadow had vanished; for there he found a small iron-grated door, through which he dimly discerned the head of a flight of stone steps, the continuation of which was lost in the darkness below. Glancing over the top of the door, he read, in iron letters, the inscription:
"DUBARRY. 1650."
"What is it, dear Lyon?" inquired Sybil, anxiously looking over his shoulder.
"Good Heaven! It is the family vault of the wicked old Dubarrys, who once owned all the land hereabouts, except the Black Valley Manor, and who built this chapel for their sins; for of them it might not be said with truth, that 'all their sons were true, and all their daughters pure,' but just exactly the reverse. However, they are well forgotten now!"
"And this is their family vault?"
"Yes; but I had almost forgotten its existence here."
"Lyon, can my mysterious visitor have hidden herself in that vault?"
"I can search it, at any rate," answered Mr. Berners, wrenching away at the grated door.
But it resisted all his efforts, as if its iron bars had been bedded in the solid masonry.
"No," he answered; "your visitor, if you had one, could not possibly have entered here. See how fast the door is."
"Lyon," whispered Sybil, in a deep and solemn voice, "Lyon, could she possibly have come out from there?"
"Nonsense, dear! Are you thinking of ghosts?"
"This is the 'Haunted Chapel,' you know," whispered Sybil.
"Bosh, my dear; you are not silly enough to believe that!"
"But my strange visitor?"
"You had no visitor, dear Sybil; you had a dream, and your dream had every feature of nightmare in it--the deep, death-like, yet half-conscious and much disturbed sleep; the sense of heavy oppression; the apparition hanging over you; the inability to awake; even the grappling at your throat, and the swift disappearance of the vision immediately upon your full awakening--all well-known features of incubus," replied Mr. Berners. But again he thought of the shadow he had seen; now, however, only to dismiss the subject as an optical illusion.
Sybil sighed deeply.
"It is hard," she said, "that you won't trust to my senses in this affair."
"Sweet wife, I would rather convince you how completely your senses have deceived you. Your imagination has been excited while your nerves were depressed. You have heard the legend of the Haunted Chapel, and while sleeping within it you conjured up the heroine of the story in your dream where she immediately took the form of incubus."
"I!--the legend! What are you talking of, Lyon? I have heard the church called the Haunted Chapel indeed, but I never even knew that there was any story connected with it," exclaimed Sybil, in surprise.
"Really? Never heard the legend of 'Dubarry's Fall'?" inquired Mr. Berners, with equal surprise.
"Never, upon my word."
"Well, it is an old tradition; forgotten like the family with whom it was connected. I heard it in my childhood; but it had slipped my memory until your graphic description of the gipsy girl in the red cloak recalled it to my mind, and led me to believe that your knowledge of the legend had so impressed your imagination as to make it conjure up the heroine of the legend."
"What is the legend? Do tell me, Lyon."
"Not now, dearest. You must first have some coffee, which a faithful friend has provided for us."
"Captain Pendleton?" eagerly inquired Sybil.
"No, dear, our servant Joe. I do not expect to see Captain Pendleton until nightfall," added Lyon Berners, for he tried to anticipate and prevent any troublesome questions that Sybil might ask, as he wished to save her from needless additional pain as long as he possibly could.
"And Joe is here with us?" inquired Sybil, cheerfully.
"No, dear; he has returned home; but will come again to-night."
"But what news did he bring?"
"None. We will hear from Captain Pendleton to-night. Now you must have some coffee; and then I will tell you the 'Legend of the Haunted Chapel'; for that legend, Sybil, may well account for your vision, whether we look on it from my point of view or from yours--as illusion or reality," said Lyon Berners.
"Or, stay," he added, reflectively; "it is too cold for you to sup in the open air. I will bring the things in here."
"Well, let me go with you, to help to bring them in, at least," pleaded Sybil.
"What! are you really afraid to stay here alone?" inquired Lyon, smiling, with an attempt at pleasantry.
"No, indeed; but all smells mouldy inside this old church. At least it does since the sun set, and I would like to go out and get a breath of fresh air," replied Sybil, quite seriously.
"Come, then," said Lyon.
They went out together.
The fire that had been built by Joe was now burnt down to embers; but the coffee-pot sat upon these embers, and the coffee was hot.
Lyon Berners took it up, while Sybil loaded herself with crockery ware and cutlery.
They had turned to go back to the church, when Sybil uttered a half-suppressed cry, and nearly dropped her burden.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Berners.
"Look!" exclaimed Sybil.
"Where?"
"At the east window."
Mr. Berners raised his eyes just in time to see a weird young face, with wild black hair, and a bright red mantle, flash downward from the window, as if it had dropped to the floor.
There was no dream now; not even an optical illusion. The reality of the vision was unquestionable.
"This is most strange," exclaimed Mr. Berners.
"It is the same face that bent over me, and woke me up," answered Sybil, with a shudder.
"It is some one who is concealed in the church, and whom we shall be sure to discover, for there is but one exit, by the front door; and if she comes out of that, we shall see her; or if she remains in the building, we shall be sure to find her there. Since I saw the face drop from the window, I have carefully watched the door. Do you also watch it, my dear Sybil; so that the creature, whatever it is, may not pass us," said Mr. Berners, as he strode on rapidly towards the church, followed by his wife.
They entered together, and looked eagerly around.
Though the sun had set some ten minutes before, yet the "after glow" shone in through the six tall gothic window spaces, and revealed clearly every nook and corner of the interior. Their strange inmate or visitor, whichever she might be, was nowhere to be seen.
With an impatient gesture, Mr. Berners set down the coffee-pot, and hurried towards the door of the vault, and looked through the iron grating. But he could see nothing but the top of those stairs, the bottom of which disappeared in the darkness.
He then shook the door; but it firmly resisted all his strength. The bars appeared to be built into the solid masonry.
"This is really confounding to all one's intelligence," exclaimed Lyon Berners, gazing around in perplexity.
"It is, indeed. But it is well that you have seen this mystery with your own eyes, for if you had not done so, you never would have believed in it," said Sybil, gravely shaking her head.
"Nor do I believe in it, now that I have seen it."
"Then you will not trust the united evidence of your own eyes and mine."
"No, Sybil; not for a prodigy so out of nature as that would be," replied Lyon Berners, firmly.
"Well, then, tell me the legend of the Haunted Chapel, for you hinted that that legend must have some connection with this apparition."
"A seeming connection, at the very least; but I cannot tell it to you now--not until you take something to eat and drink, for you have not broken your fast since morning."
"Nor have I hungered since morning," replied Sybil, with a sigh.
Mr. Berners went up to the smouldering embers of the fire that he had lighted in the morning on the stone floor of the church; and he drew together the dying brands, put fresh fuel on them, and soon rekindled the flame.
And the husband and wife sat down beside it; and while Sybil ate and drank with what appetite she could bring to the repast, Lyon Berners, to pass off the heavy time, related to her the legend of the Haunted Chapel.
