The Verdict and the Visitor

Lyon permitted the captain to draw him away to a little distance, where
they both sat down side by side, on a fallen tombstone.

"In the first place, how is your wife, and how does she sustain herself
under this overwhelming disaster?" inquired Captain Pendleton, forcing
himself to speak composedly.

"I do not think my dear innocent Sybil was able fully to appreciate the
danger of her position, even as she stood before the rendering of that
false and fatal verdict, she was so strong in her sense of innocence.
She seemed to suffer most from the lesser evils involved in her exile
from home."

"Where is she, then?"

"Sleeping heavily in the church there; sleeping very heavily, from the
united effects of mental and bodily fatigue and excitement."

"Heaven grant that she may sleep long and well. And now, Berners, to our
plans. You must know that I kept a horse saddled and tied in the woods
down by the river, and as soon as that lying verdict was rendered, I
hurried off, leaped into my saddle and galloped here. I forded the
river, and have left my horse just below here, at the entrance of this
thicket. I must soon mount and away again on your service."

"Oh, my dear Pendleton, how shall I ever repay you?"

"By keeping up a stout heart until this storm-cloud blows over, as it
must, in a few days or weeks. But now to business. How came this man Joe
here?"

Mr. Berners explained how Joe had overheard all their conversation while
they were making their arrangements, and taken pains to co-operate with
them, and had followed them here with some necessary provisions. And he,
Mr. Berners, closed with a eulogy on Joe's fidelity and discretion.