But there was no need to call, for he had scarcely turned the lock before he heard the light steps of Miss Pendleton approaching.
"What is the matter? Lyon, you are happy or crazy! Which is it? I am sure something delightful must have happened to make you look so! What is it?" demanded Beatrix, as she slided into a seat.
Before Mr. Berners could answer, the door once more opened, and Captain Pendleton entered.
"What is up?" was his first question, on seeing the excited countenances of his friends.
"We have good news. But--where is Miss Sheridan?" inquired Mr Berners, suddenly remembering his youngest guest.
"Oh, Minnie is curling her hair in my room. Her ringlets were so blown by the wind that it was necessary to dress it over again. She wouldn"t let me wait for her," explained Beatrix.
"It is just as well," added Mr. Sheridan. "Minnie is a good girl, but she is little more than a child; and though I could answer for her honesty, I couldn"t for her discretion."
"Then," said Lyon Berners very gravely, "then let what I am about to read to you remain an inviolable secret between us four."
"Certainly," answered Sheridan.
"Shall we swear it?" inquired Pendleton.
"Yes! yes! if necessary. But, oh! do go on! It is something about Sybil," impatiently exclaimed Beatrix.
"Yes, it is something about Sybil. You need not swear to be secret on this subject. You have given me your words, and that is sufficient.
Indeed, I feel sure that without any request on my part or promise on yours, you would still have been secret, for you would still have seen the necessity of secrecy. Now I will read you the letter, which will explain itself," said Mr. Berners, as he unfolded his mysterious epistle, and read:
"BRITISH MERCHANTMAN DELIVERANCE, } "At Sea, Lat. 35 deg. 15 m., Lon. 49 deg. 27 m.,} _December 1st, 18--_. }
"TO LYON BERNERS, Esq.: Sir--As you and your set made such a mess of it in trying to save Mrs. Sybil Berners from the injustice of "justice," I, who am an outlaw, undertook to take her from out of all your hands.
"The instrument of my work was my dutiful son Raphael. We had intended, with the help of our brave band, to storm the prison, and deliver the fair prisoner by force of arms. But before we were quite ready for that difficult enterprise, the flood came and made all easy. We had only to hire a boat, get into it, and permit ourselves to be lifted by the rise of the waters to the level of her cell window, beat it in, and take her out. We did that and saved her, and also, incidentally, the infant girl and the old maid.
"We put out the woman at the foot of the Quarries, having first bound her by an oath to secrecy as to the means of her rescue and the safety of Sybil Berners--an oath, by the way, of which you hereby have the authority to release her, should you see fit to do so.
"We placed the child at nurse with a woman by the name of Fugitt, who is the wife of the overseer at Colonel Poindexter"s plantation, not far from Blackville. The nurse knows nothing of the child, except that she was paid a hundred dollars down for taking care of it, and asking no questions.
"We took the mother to the old ruined wind-mill, where we had a snug room or two. There she was skilfully nursed by our old housekeeper through the dangerous fever that followed her confinement and her exposure. After her recovery and her full restoration to reason, we, avoiding every reference either to her long imprisonment or maternity, both of which events she had forgotten in the delirium of her illness, we took her away to Norfolk, where we went on board the British merchant ship "Deliverance." I write this letter from the sea, about half-way across the Atlantic, and I wait to send it by some homeward-bound ship.
"_December 9th._--The man on the look-out reports a sail in sight, heading this way. If she should prove to be an American-bound ship, her name ought to be "The Surprise," for when I send this letter by her she will take you a very great surprise.
"If this should reach you in season, pray accept it as a Christmas gift.
"Mrs. Berners is still improving, though not yet well or strong enough to accommodate herself to the motion of the ship sufficiently to enable her to write to you. Nor will she send any confidential message through me. She will not even see or speak to me. She keeps her state-room, attended by my wife.
"She still resents her rescue, which she calls her abduction, and she feels grief and indignation at being taken away from you, rather than joy or grat.i.tude at being saved from death. But then it is true that she thinks she was only rescued from drowning in the flood. She does not know that she was saved from a still more horrible fate.
"The mild insanity which appeared several months ago, and disappeared at the birth of her child, and which then shielded her from all realization of the horrors of her late position, still saves her from all knowledge of what it was. Although now perfectly sane, she is entirely ignorant that she was ever put on trial for her life, or condemned to death, or sent to prison.
"Nor would I enlighten her on that subject lest the fate of the sleep-walker should be hers--who, having safely walked over the parapet of a bridge above an awful chasm, fell dead with horror the next morning at beholding the peril he had escaped. I would advise you to maintain the same inviolable secrecy on that subject. She does not know the dangers she has pa.s.sed, and she need never know them.
"They have spoken the ship, and I will go up and see what she is.
"_Later._--She is not the "Surprise," as she ought to have been. She is the "Sally Ann," of Baltimore, homeward bound, with a cargo of silks.
She will lay alongside for half an hour to exchange letters and some provisions.
"A few words more. Don"t forget where I told you, you might find your child, and then go and accuse me of stealing it.
"Remember that you have my authority for releasing the old woman from her oath, that she may give you every detail of the rescue. But I counsel you, that as soon as you shall have heard all that she has got to tell you, you will seal up her lips with another oath even more binding than the first.
"The continued existence of Sybil Berners should be kept a profound secret from all others, except those few devoted friends who will follow her into exile; and it should be kept so, for this reason; that sometime, sooner or late, there will be an extradition treaty between all civilized nations, for the delivering up of fugitives from justice, which impending treaty may or may not have a retrospective action.
Therefore it is better that Mrs. Berners should be supposed to have perished in the flood, and that the secret of her rescue and continued life should be carefully kept from all, except those already mentioned.
"A last word. The only way in which my wife can keep her quiet, is by promising that you will follow her immediately. Come as soon as you can.
I am weary of my charge. Why I ever undertook it, is my secret. We will await you in Liverpool. A letter addressed to "Raphael," through the general post-office in that city, will find us.
"And now I must seal up, wishing you a merry Christmas. From your
UNKNOWN FRIEND."
"Thank Heaven!" fervently exclaimed Beatrix Pendleton.
"Amen," earnestly responded her brother.
"You will go soon, Lyon?" eagerly inquired Beatrix.
"Soon? I would start instantly if I could. But there is no coach that leaves for Baltimore or Norfolk until the day after to-morrow. To-day I will give orders to my servants to pack up. To-morrow I will ride over to Fugitt"s to inquire after my child, which for its own sake must still be left in their care, I suppose. And the day after I will leave in the early coach for Baltimore. There I shall certainly be able to meet a clipper bound for Liverpool," answered Mr. Berners, speaking very rapidly.
"And in the mean time?" anxiously inquired Captain Pendleton.
"In the meantime, that is, to-day, I must give my friend Sheridan here a power of attorney to manage this estate during my absence. For you--you hold to your purpose of visiting Europe, Pendleton?"
"Oh, yes; and if you could wait a week, while I make the necessary arrangements, Beatrix and myself might accompany you; but that is too much to ask of you under the circ.u.mstances," smiled Clement Pendleton.
"I should be so rejoiced to have you both go with me, especially as the voyage is going to be a tedious one at this season of the year; but how can I delay a day while my poor Sybil, an exile among strangers, waits for me?"
"Oh, of course you could not possibly do it. But we will follow you soon, Berners, rely upon that."
Lyon Berners pressed his friend"s hand in silence, and then went to meet Minnie Sheridan, who had glided shyly and silently into the room.
She must have heard the latter part of the conversation, but without apparently understanding it; for she came forward blushing and smiling, as usual, and took her seat beside Beatrix Pendleton.
The conversation concerning Sybil ceased then. Some one started the subject of the Christmas sermon, and they talked of that until dinner was announced.
It was a much happier feast than Lyon Berners had ventured to hope for.
They sat long at table. After they withdrew to the drawing-room, Mr.
Berners sat the two Pendletons and the two Sheridans down to a rubber of whist, and then excused himself to them, and went out in search of Miss Tabitha Winterose.
He found that faithful creature in the housekeeper"s room, sitting at a little table, drinking tea and dropping tears.
"What is the matter, Miss Tabby?" he inquired cheerfully.