Cruel As The Grave

'Tis well--my soul shakes off its load of care;

'Tis only the obscure is terrible;

Imagination frames events unknown,

In wild, fantastic shapes of hideous ruin,

And what its fears creates.--HANNAH MORE.

Upon the snow-white bed the form of Rosa Blondelle, wrapped in pure

white raiment, was laid out. Very peaceful and beautiful she looked, her

fair face, framed in its pale gold hair, wearing no sign of the violent

death by which she died.

At her head sat Sybil, looking very pale, and shedding silent tears.

At her feet sat Miss Tabby, whimpering and muttering.

Within the little nursery, beyond the chamber, the Scotch girl sat,

crying and sobbing.

Lyon Berners softly approached the bed, and whispered to Sybil.

"Dearest, come out, I wish to speak to you."

She silently arose and followed him. He was silent until they had

reached their own room.

"Sit down, Sybil," he then said, as calmly as he could force himself to

speak.

She sank into a seat and looked at him inquiringly, but fearlessly.

He stood before her unable to proceed. It was terrible to him to witness

her utter unconsciousness of her own position--more terrible still to be

obliged to arouse her from it.

She continued to regard him with curiosity, but without anxiety, waiting

silently for what he should say to her.

"Sybil," he said at length, as soon as he was able to speak--"Sybil, you

are a brave and strong spirit! You can meet a sudden calamity without

sinking under it."

"What is it?" inquired his wife, in a low tone.

"Sybil, dearest Sybil! there is no time to break the bad news to you;

brace yourself to hear it abruptly."

"Yes! tell me."

"Sybil, listen, and comprehend. The circumstances that surround this

mysterious murder are of a character to compromise you so seriously,

that you may only find safety in immediate flight."

"Me!--flight!" exclaimed Mrs. Berners, dilating her dark eyes in

amazement.

Mr. Berners groaned in the spirit, as he replied: "Yes, Sybil, yes! Oh! my dearest, attend and understand, and be strong!

Sybil, hear. The quarrel you were known to have had with this poor

woman; the threats you used on that occasion; the dagger in your hand;

the blood oh your wrist, and above all the words of the dying woman

charging you with her death. All these form a chain of circumstantial

and even direct evidence that will drag you down--I cannot say it!"

burst forth Lyon in an accession of agony.

Sybil's dark eyes opened wider and wider in amazement, but still without

the least alarm.

"It is enough, oh, Sybil, to repeat to you that your only safety is in

instant flight," he exclaimed, dropping his face upon his hands.