Oh, might we here
In solitude live savage, in some glade
Obscured, where highest woods impenetrable
To star, or sunlight, spread their umbrage broad
And brown as evening; cover us, ye pines
Ye cedars with innumerable boughs
Hide us where we may ne'er be seen again.--BYRON.
Nothing could be more lonely and desolate than this place. It was
abandoned to Nature and Nature's wild children. Of the birds that
perched so near his hand; of the squirrels that peeped at him from their
holes under the gravestones, he might have said with Alexander Selkirk
on Juan Fernandez, "Their tameness is shocking to me."
There was a great consolation to be derived from these circumstances,
however; for they proved how completely deserted by human beings, and
how perfectly safe for the refugees, was this old "Haunted Chapel."
Too deeply troubled in mind to take any repose of body; Lyon Berners
continued to ramble about among the gravestones, which were now so worn
with age that no vestige of their original inscriptions remained to
gratify the curiosity of a chance inspector.
Above him was the glorious autumn sky, now hazy with the golden mist of
Indian summer. Around him lay a vast wilderness of hill and dell covered
with luxuriant forests, now gorgeous with the glowing autumn colors of
their foliage.
But his thoughts were not with this magnificent landscape. They
wandered to the past days of peace and joy before the coming of the
coquette had "made confusion" with the wedded pair. They wandered to the
future, trying to penetrate the gloom and horror of its shadows. They
flew to Black Hall, picturing the people, prevising the possibilities
there.
How he longed for, yet dreaded the arrival of Captain Pendleton! Would
there be danger in his coming through the open daylight? What news would
he bring?
The verdict of the coroners jury? Against whom must this verdict be
given? Lyon Berners shuddered away from answering this question. But it
was also possible that before this the murderer might have been
discovered and arrested. Should this surmise prove to be a fact, oh,
what relief from anguish, what a happy return home for Sybil! If not--if
the verdict should be rendered against her,--nothing but flight and
exile remained to them.
While Lyon Berners wandered up and down like a restless ghost among the
gravestones, his attention was suddenly arrested by the sound of a
crackling tread breaking through the bushes. He turned quickly,
expecting to see Captain Pendleton, but he saw his own servant instead.
"Joe!" he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise.
"Marser!" responded the man, in a voice of grief.
"You come from Captain Pendleton? What message does he send? How is it
at the house? Has the coroner come? And oh! has any clue been found to
the murderer?" anxiously inquired Mr. Berners.