Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth My friends, I care not, (so much I am happy Above a number,) if my actions Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them, Envy and base opinion set against them, To know my life so even.—Shakspeare.

And first they went to Mrs. Blondelle’s room, and carefully examined every part of it, especially the fastenings of the doors and windows. They all seemed to be right.

“I have a theory of this murder now!” said Mr. Berners, standing in the middle of the room and speaking to the men who were with him.

“Humph! what is it?” coldly inquired old Judge Basham.

“It is this; that as Mrs. Blondelle was known to have possessed jewels of great value, some miscreant came here with the intention to rob her of them.”

“Well, and what then?” asked the Judge.

“That this miscreant entered either by the outer door, or by one of these windows, approached the bed of his victim, who, being awake and seeing him, shrieked, either before or at the moment of receiving the death wound, and then fainted.”

“Humph! what next?” grunted the Judge.

“That first shriek brought my wife running to the rescue. At the sound of her approach, of course the murderer turned and fled, escaping through the outer door or window.”

“An ingenious story, and a plausible explanation, Mr. Berners; but one, I fear, that will never convince a jury, or satisfy the public,” remarked Judge Basham.

“Nay, and it will na satisfy mysel’ neither! It’ll na do, gentlemen! The murderer didna come through the outer door, nor the windows either! For mysel’ fastened them a’ before I went to my bed! And yesel’s found them fastened when ye cam!” said the Scotch girl Janet, who had now entered the room with the child in her arms.

“But he may have come through the door, my good girl,” suggested Mr. Berners, whose very blood seemed to freeze at this testimony of the maid.

“Nay, nay, laird! that will na do either. The murderer could na hae come by the outer door, for mysel’ bolted it before I went to bed! And it was still bolted when my puir leddy—Oh, my puir bonny leddy! oh! my puir dear murdered mistress!” broke forth from the girl in sudden and violent lamentations.

“Compose yourself, and tell us all about the bolted door,” said Judge Basham.

“Aweel, sir, the door was bolted by mysel’, and bolted it stayed until that puir leddy started out of her bed and tore the bolt back, and fled away from before the face of her murderer! too late! oh, too late! for she carried her death wound with her.”

“So you see, Mr. Berners, your theory of the murder falls to pieces. This girl’s testimony proves that the murderer could not have entered the room, from this floor,” said Judge Basham.

“Then he must have been concealed in the room,” exclaimed Lyon, desperately.

“Nay, nay! that will na do either, laird. Na mon was hid in the room. Mysel’ looked into all the closets, and under the bed, and up the chimney, as I always do before I go to sleep. I could na sleep else. Nay, nay, laird! The murderer came in neither by outer door nor window, nor yet lay hidden in the room; for mysel’ had fastened the outer door and window, and searched the room before I slept. Nay, nay, laird! The murderer cam by the only way left open—left open because we thought it was safe—the way leading from Mistress Berners’ room down to the little stairs, and through this door which was not bolted,” persisted the Scotch girl.

Lyon Berners’ heart seemed turned to ice by these last words. Nevertheless he summoned fortitude to say:

“We must examine and see if there has been a robbery committed. If there has been one, then, of course, in the face of all this woman’s evidence, it will prove that the robber has done this foul deed.”

“I do not see clearly that it will,” objected Judge Basham. “However, we will make the examination.”

“Your honors need na tak the trouble. Mysel’ saw to that too. See, the bureau drawers and wardrobes are all fast locked as me leddy saw me lock them hersel’. And the keys are safe in the pocket of my gown. Nay, nay, lairds, naething is stolen,” said Janet.

Nevertheless, Mr. Berners insisted on making the examination. So Janet produced the keys and opened all the bureau drawers, boxes, wardrobes, etc. All things were found in order. In the upper bureau drawer, caskets of jewels, boxes of laces, rolls of bank-notes and other valuables were found untouched. Nothing was missing.

In a word, no clue was found to the supposed murderer and robber; but, on the other hand, every circumstance combined to fix the deed on Sybil.

Lyon Berners felt a faintness like death coming over him, and subduing all his manhood. Unblenchingly, in his own person, he would have braved any fate. But that his wife—his pure, high-toned, magnanimous Sybil, should be caught up and ground to pieces by this horrible machinery of circumstance and destiny! Was this a nightmare? His brain was reeling. He felt that he might go mad. Like the drowning man, he caught at straws. Turning to the Scotch girl, he demanded somewhat sternly:

“And where were you when your mistress was being murdered? where were you, that you did not hasten to her assistance? You could not have been far off—you must in fact have been in that little adjoining nursery.”

“And sae I was, laird; and her first screech waked me up and garred me grew sae till I couldna move, and didna move till I heard her screech again and again, and saw her rin acrass the floor, and tear back the bolt and flecht fra the room, followed close behind by Mistress Berners. And thin mysel’ sprang up wi’ the bairn in me arms and rin after them, thinking the de’il was behind me. Oh, me puir leddy! oh, me puir, bonny leddy! oh! oh! oh!” wept and wailed the girl, dropping down on the floor and throwing her apron over her head.

But the cries of the child from the adjoining nursery caused her to start up, and run in there to comfort him.

The searchers left that room, and pursued their investigations elsewhere. They went all through the house without finding any clue to the mystery. They attempted to search the grounds, but the night was pitch-dark, and the rain was falling fast. Finally, they returned to the room of death.

All the ladies and all the servants had gone away. No one remained in it but Sybil and Miss Tabby, watching the dead.

Sybil sat near the head of the body, and Miss Tabby near the feet.

At the sight of his doomed young wife, Lyon Berners senses reeled again.

“She is so inexperienced in all the ways of the world, so ignorant of the ways of the law! Oh, does she know—does she even dream of the awful position, the deadly danger in which she stands? No; she is unconscious of all peril. She evidently believes that the explanation she gave us here, and which satisfies her friends, will convince all others. Oh, Sybil! Sybil! an hour ago so safe in your domestic sanctity, and now—now momentarily exposed to—Heaven! I cannot bear it!” he groaned, as he struggled for self-command and went towards her.

She was sitting with her hands clasped, as in prayer, and her eyes, full of the deepest regret and pity, fixed upon the face of the dead. There was sorrow, sympathy, awe—anything but fear or distrust in her countenance. At the approach of her husband, she turned and whispered gravely:

“She was my rival where I could least bear rivalry; and I thought she had been a successful one. I do not think so now; and now I have no feeling towards her but one of the deepest compassion. Oh, Lyon, we must adopt her poor child, and rear it for our own. Oh! who has done this deed? Some one whose aim was robbery, no doubt. Has any trace been discovered of the murderer?” she inquired.

“None, Sybil,” he answered, with difficulty.

“Oh, Lyon, such awful thoughts have visited me since I have sat here and forced myself to look upon this sight! For I see in it that which I might have done, had my madness become frenzy; but even then, not as this was done. Oh, no, no, no! May God forgive me and change my heart, for I have been standing on the edge of an abyss!”

Mr. Berners could not speak. He was suffocating with the feeling that she now stood upon the brink of ruin yawning to receive her.

“Heaven help you, Sybil!” was the silent prayer of his spirit as he gazed on his unconscious wife.

Miss Tabby, who sat whimpering at the feet of the dead, now spoke up:

“I think,” she said, wiping the tear-drop from the end of her nose, “I do think as we ought not to leave it a-lying here, cramped up onto this sofy, where we can’t stretch it straight. We ought to have it taken to her room and laid out on her bed, decent and in order.”

“It is true; but oh, in a shock like this, how much is forgotten!” said Mr. Berners. Then turning to old Judge Basham, who had sank into an easy-chair to rest, but seemed to consider himself still on the bench, since he assumed so much authority, Lyon inquired, “Do you see any objection to the body being removed to a bedroom before the coroner’s arrival?”

“Certainly not. This is not the scene of the murder. You had best take it back to the bed on which she received her death,” answered the old Judge.

“Friends,” said Mr. Berners, turning to the gentlemen, who had all solemnly and silently seated themselves as at a funeral, “will one of you assist me in this?”

Captain Pendleton, who had just reËntÉred the room, came promptly up.

“By the way, did you send for the coroner, sir?” demanded the old Judge, intercepting him.

“Yes, sir, I did,” curtly answered the Captain.

“Then I shall sit here until his arrival,” observed the Judge settling himself for a nap in his easy-chair.

“That old fellow is in his dotage!” growled Captain Pendleton to himself, as he tenderly lifted the head and shoulders of all that remained of poor Rosa Blondelle. But at the touch of her cold form, the sight of her still face, tears of pity sprang into the young soldier’s eyes. Rosa had been a fine woman, and her body was now no light weight. It took the united strength of Captain Pendleton and Mr. Berners to bear it properly from the parlor to the chamber, where they laid it on the bed, and left it to the care of Sybil and Miss Tabby, who had followed them.

Mr. Berners then pulled the Captain into an empty room and whispered hoarsely:

“Did I understand you to tell the Judge that you had sent a messenger for the coroner?”

“Yes; but mind, I sent an old man on an old mule. It will be many hours before he reaches Blackville; many more before the coroner gets here. Good Heaven! Berners, I had to do that! Don’t you see the awful danger of your innocent wife?” exclaimed Captain Pendleton, in an agitated voice.

“Don’t I see it? I am not mad, or blind. But you, in the face of this overwhelming evidence—you believe her to be innocent?” demanded Lyon Berners, in a tone of agonized entreaty.

“I know her to be innocent! I have known her from her infancy. She might have flown at a rival, and torn her to pieces, in a frenzy of passion; but she could never have struck a secret blow,” answered Captain Pendleton, emphatically.

“Thanks! Oh, thanks for your faith in her!” exclaimed Lyon Berners, earnestly.

“But now! Do you not see what is to be done? She must be got out of the house before the coroner or any officer of justice arrives,” said Captain Pendleton, earnestly.

“Oh, this is so sudden and terrible! It is an avalanche—an earthquake! It crushes me. It deprives me of reason!” groaned Lyon Berners, sinking into a chair, and covering his face with his hands.

“Lyon, my friend, arouse yourself! Rise above this agony of despair, if you would save your imperilled wife! She must fly from this house within an hour, and you must accompany her,” urged Captain Pendleton.

“I know it! I know it! But oh, Heaven! the anguish of my heart! the chaos of my thoughts! Pendleton, think for me; act for me; tell me what to do!” cried the strong man, utterly overwhelmed and powerless.

Captain Pendleton hurried into the supper-room, the scene of the late revels, and brought from there a glass of brandy, which he forced his friend to swallow.

“Now listen to me, Berners. Go and call your wife, take her to your mutual room, tell her the necessity of instant flight. She is strong, and will be equal to the occasion. Then, quickly as you can collect all your money and jewels, and conceal them about your person. Dress yourself, and tell her to dress in plain stout weather-proof riding-habits. Do this at once. Meanwhile, I will go myself to the stables, and saddle two of the swiftest horses, and bring them around to the back door, so that no servant need to be taken into our confidence to-night. When I meet you with the horses, I will direct you to a temporary retreat where you will be perfectly safe for the present; afterwards we can think of a permanent place of security. Now, then, courage, and hurry!”

“My friend in need!” fervently exclaimed Lyon Berners, as they parted.

“I have further suggestions to make when we meet again. I have thought of everything,” Captain Pendleton called after him.

Lyon Berners went in search of Sybil, to the chamber of death, which was now restored to order, and dimly lighted.