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Updated: June 8, 2025
The new agent was frequently called to Black Hall, where he was always received with the utmost courtesy. And as the acquaintance between the proprietor and the agent ripened into intimacy, a deep and strong attachment grew between them. "Youth never showed itself wiser or better than in this young man," murmured Mr. Berners to himself.
A Berners of whom it has been said, that it is almost as fatal to be loved, as to be hated, by one of them! Dear Sybil! never doubt my love; never be jealous of me, if you would not destroy us both," he earnestly implored. "I do not doubt you, dearest Lyon; I am not jealous of you! What cause, indeed, have I to be so? But but " "But what, my darling?"
"You are Mrs. Sybil Berners of Black Hall?" repeated the stranger, drawing from his pocket a folded paper. "Yes," faltered Sybil, in a dying voice. "Then, Madam, I have a most painful duty to perform. Sybil Berners, you are my prisoner," he said, and he laid his hand upon her shoulder.
"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.
"Where shall I tell the man to drive, mum?" the butler asked with the cab-door in his hand. Mrs. Branston felt herself blushing, and hesitated a little before she replied. "The Union Bank, Chancery-lane. Tell him to go by the Strand and Temple-bar." "I can't think what's come to my mistress," Miss Berners remarked as the cab drove off.
Berners, with a smile. "Why, my dear Sybil, what on earth do you mean?" "Why, that our party shall be a masked, fancy-dress ball. That will be something new in this old-fashioned neighborhood." "Yes, and something startling to our old-fashioned neighbors," said Mr. Berners, with a dubious shake of his head. "So much the better. They need startling, and I intend to startle them."
Berners, a rich bachelor in business, who was rich enough not to mind what people said of him, and kept a lady there. She ran off from him, and he then let it to some young man a stranger, very eccentric, I hear a Mr. Mr. Butler and he, too, gave the cottage an unlawful attraction, a most beautiful girl, I have heard." "Butler!" echoed Vargrave, "Butler! Butler!"
While they were speaking, a step was heard crushing through the dried brushwood, and in another moment Captain Pendleton, pale, sad, and weary, stood before them. Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud Without our special wonder? Shakespeare. "Pendleton! oh! Heaven, Pendleton! What news?" exclaimed Lyon Berners, starting up to greet him. "Good heaven! Berners! How is this?
It was a work with which Lyon Berners, as a law student, had been very familiar. "Why, where did you get this?" he inquired in a tone of annoyance, for he felt at once what its effect upon Sybil's mind must be. "Oh, I found it behind the looking-glass in the other room." "Left by some traveller, I suppose.
Lyon and Sybil rode on towards the upper banks of the Black River, hearing at every step the thunder of the Black Torrent, as it leaped from rock to rock in its passionate descent to the valley. At length they came to a narrow opening in the side of the mountain. "Here is a path I know," said Mr. Berners, "though its entrance is so concealed by undergrowth as to be almost impossible to discover."
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