Sybil also sank upon a side seat, where she sat with that same look of

agony turned to marble, on her face. Some one came up and invited her to

join in the promenade. Scarcely recognizing the speaker, or

comprehending what he said, she arose, more like an automaton than a

living woman, and let herself be led away to join the march.

But her looks had now attracted very general attention, and occasioned

much comment. More than one indiscreet friend or acquaintance had

remarked to Mr. Berners: "Mrs. Berners looks quite ill. I fear the fatigue of this masquerade has

been too much for her," or words to that effect.

"Yes," Lyon Berners invariably replied, "she is quite indisposed this

evening, suffering indeed; and I have begged her to retire, but I cannot

induce her to do so."

"She is too unselfish; she exerts herself too much for the entertainment

of her guests," suggested another.

And so the rumor went around the room that Mrs. Berners was suffering

from severe illness. And this explanation of her appearance was very

generally received; for the outward and silent manifestations of mental

anguish are not unlike those of physical agony.

And so, after another quadrille and another waltz, and the final

Virginia reel, the company, in consideration of their hostess, began to

break up and depart. Some few intimate friends of the family, who had

come from a distance to the ball, were to stay all night at Black Hall.

These upon their first arrival had been shown to the chambers they were

to occupy, and now they knew where to find them. And so, when the last

of the departing guests had taken leave of their hostess, and had gone

away, these also bade her good-night and retired.

And Sybil remained alone in the deserted drawing-room.

It is sometimes interesting and curious to consider the relative

position of the parties concerned, just before the enactment of some

terrible tragedy.

The situation at Black Hall was this: The guests were in their chambers,

preparing to retire to bed. The servants were engaged in fastening up

the house and putting out the lights, only they refrained from

interfering with three rooms, where three members of the family still

lingered.

In the first of these was the mistress of the house, who, as I said,

remained alone in the deserted drawing-room. Sybil stood as if turned to

stone, and fixed to the spot--motionless in form and face, except that

her lips moved and a hollow monotone issued from them, more like the

moan of a lost soul, than the voice of a living woman.

"So all is lost, and nothing left but these--REVENGE and DEATH!" she

muttered.

The awful spirit of her race overshadowed her and possessed her. She

felt that, to destroy the destroyer of her peace, she would be willing

to meet and suffer all that man could inflict upon her body, or devil

do to her soul! And so she brooded, until suddenly out of this

trance-like state she started, as if a serpent had stung her.




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