Cruel As The Grave

"The Ship will sail on Saturday! That is the day after to-morrow, dear

Sybil. And we may go on board to-morrow night."

"Oh! I am so glad!" exclaimed Sybil, clapping her hands for joy. And she

began to pack up immediately.

"Moreover, I have sold my wagon and horses to a party at Portsmouth. And

so we can put our luggage into it and drive off as if we were going

home; but we can go down to the river instead, and take it across in the

ferry-boat. Then I can have our effects put upon shipboard, and then

deliver the team to its purchaser and receive the price," added Lyon.

"Oh, but I am so delighted with the bare fact of our getting away so

soon, that all things else seem of no account to me!" joyously exclaimed

Sybil, going on with her packing.

The next morning Lyon went out alone to make a few more purchases for

their voyage. While he was going around, he also bought all the daily

papers that he could get hold of. He returned to Sybil at an early hour

of the forenoon. He found her sitting down in idleness.

"Got entirely through packing, my darling?" he inquired cheerfully.

"Oh, yes, and I have nothing on earth to do now. How long this last day

will seem! At what hour may we go on board, this evening?"

"At sundown."

"Oh, that it were now sundown! How shall we contrive to pass the time

until then?"

"This will help us to pass the day, dear wife," he answered, laying the

pile of newspapers on the table between them.

Each took up a paper and began to look over it.

Lyon was deep in a political article, when a cry from Sybil startled

him.

"What is the matter?" he inquired, in alarm.

She did not answer. Her face was pale as ashes, and her eyes were

strained upon the paper.

"What do you see there?" again inquired her husband.

"Oh, Lyon! Lyon! we are lost! we are lost!" she cried in a voice of

agony.

In great anxiety he took the paper from her hand, and read the paragraph

to which she pointed. It ran thus: "It is now certain that Sybil Berners, accused of the murder of Rosa

Blondelle, is not in Annapolis, as was falsely reported; but that she

has escaped in disguise, accompanied by her husband, who is also in

disguise; and that both are in the city of Norfolk."

Now it was Lyon's turn to grow pallid with fear, not for himself, but

for one dearer to him than his own life. Still he tried to control his

emotions, or at least to conceal them from her. He compelled himself to

answer calmly: "Take courage, my darling! We are before them. In a few more hours we

shall be on board the ship."