Tried for Her Life Part 49

"Oh, Beatrix, I don't know. But this autumn weather, it saddens me. Oh, more than that--worse than that, it _horrifies_ me so much! It seems a.s.sociated with--I know not what of anguish and despair. And I want to leave this desolate and gloomy place. It is so lonely, now that all the visitors have gone but ourselves. How can you bear it, Beatrix?"

"Very well, dear, so long as I have your company," answered Miss Pendleton, wondering that Sybil should miss the throng of visitors that had existed only in her own imagination.

"But I am homesick, Beatrix. Oh, Beatrix! I am so--so--homesick!" said Sybil, plaintively.

"Never mind, dear. Try to be patient. It would not do for you to undertake the journey now, you know," said Miss Pendleton, soothingly.

"Oh, but, Beatrix, I did so want to be at _home_ to welcome my first dear child! There was never a Berners born out of Black Hall since the building was first erected," she pleaded.

"Never mind, dear. Everything now must give way to your health, you know. We could not endanger your health, by taking you over all these rough roads to Black Hall just now," said Miss Pendleton, gently.

"Ah, well! I will try to content myself to stay here in this gloomy place. But, oh! Beatrix, after all, I may die, and never see my home again. My dear home! Oh, if I should die here, Beatrix, I should be sure to haunt my home!"

"But you will not die. You must put away such gloomy fancies!"

As Miss Pendleton spoke, the cell door was opened, and the warden appeared bearing in the tray containing the supper service for the two ladies. It was not usual for the warden to wait on them in person; and so, to Miss Pendleton's silent look of inquiry, he answered:

"You must excuse my daughter for this once, ma'am, as she has gone to a merry-making in the village--this, you know, being Hallow Eve."

"_Hallow Eve!_" echoed an awful voice.

Both the warden and the young lady started, and turned around to see whence the unearthly sound came.

They beheld Sybil fallen back in her chair, pallid, ghastly, and convulsed.

Beatrix seized her vial of sal volatile and flew to the relief of her friend.

"What is it, dear Sybil? can you tell me?" she anxiously inquired, as she held the vial to the nostrils of her friend.

"_Hallow Eve! Hallow Eve!_" she repeated in a terrible tone.

"Well, dear, what of that? That is nothing."

"Oh yes, yes, it is horrible! it is horrible!"

"Hush, hush, dear! try to be composed."

"Black night! fire! blood! Oh, what a terror!"

"It was only a dream, dear. It is over now, and you are awake. Look up!"

"Oh, no! no dream, Beatrix! an awful, an overwhelming reality!"

exclaimed the awakened sufferer. Then suddenly, with a shriek, she threw her hands to her head and fell into spasms.

"For heaven's sake run and fetch a doctor," exclaimed Beatrix, in the utmost distress, appealing to the terrified warden.

He immediately hurried from the room to procure the necessary medical attendance.

Beatrix ran after him, calling loudly:

"Send for her husband and her old nurse from Black Hall, also. I know it is after hours, but I believe she is dying."

The warden nodded a.s.sent, and hurried away, leaving Miss Pendleton in attendance upon the agonized woman, who recovered from one convulsion only to fall into another and severer one.

It was midnight, and a sorrowful and anxious group were gathered in Sybil's cell. She lay upon her bed, writhing with agony, and upon the very verge of death.

Near her stood her old family physician Dr. Hart, her old nurse Mrs.

Winterose, and her faithful attendant Miss Tabby.

In the lobby, outside the cell door, sat her husband, with his face buried in his hands, wrestling in prayer with heaven.

What was he praying for? That his idolized young wife should be spared in this mortal peril? No, no, and a thousand times no! With all his heart and soul he prayed that she might die--that she might die e'er that dread warrant, which had arrived from Richmond only that morning, and which fixed her execution for an early day, could be carried out!

This agony of prayer was interrupted. The doctor came out of the cell, and whispered:

"It is over. She is the mother of a little girl."

There was no expression of parental joy or thankfulness on the father's part. Only the breathless question:

"And she? Can she survive?"

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE GREAT VALLEY STORM.

"Then hurtles forth the wind with sudden burst, And hurls the whole precipitated clouds Down in a torrent. On the sleeping vale Descends infernal force, and with strong gust Turns from the bottom the discolored streams Through the black night that broods immense around, Lashed into foam, the fierce contending falls Swift o'er a thousand rearing rocks do race."

"Can she survive?" repeated Lyon Berners, perceiving that the physician hesitated to reply. "If she must die, do not fear to tell me so. I, who love her best, would say, 'Thank G.o.d!' Can she survive?"

"Mr. Berners, I do not know. Her situation is very critical. She has had convulsions. She is now prostrated and comatose," gravely answered the doctor.

"Then there is good hope that the Angel of Death may take her home now?"

"There is strong hope, since you choose to call it hope instead of fear."

"Ah! Doctor Hart, you know--you know--"

"That death in some cases might be a blessing--that death in this case certainly would. Yes, I know. And yet it is my bounden duty to do what I can to save life, so I must return to my patient," said the physician, laying his hand upon the latch of the door.

"When may I see my wife?" inquired Lyon Berners.

"_Now_, if you please; but she will not know you," said the doctor, shaking his head.