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Updated: September 8, 2025
While Sybil stood behind the group, she saw her husband and her rival precede every one to the door. "Names, if you please, sir?" inquired the usher with a bow. "Harold the Saxon and Edith the Fair," answered Mr. Berners in a low voice. "Mr. Harry Claxton and Miss Esther Clair!" shouted poor old Abe at the top of his voice as he opened wider the door to admit his unknown master and the lady.
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.
"How long will it take you to reach your beautiful home?" sweetly inquired Rosa Blondelle. "We might reach it in two days, if we were to travel day and night; but we shall be four days on the road, as we propose to put up at some roadside inn or village each night," answered Lyon Berners.
"Hush! hush!" breathed Rosa, drawing away her hand and covering her face "hush! that is a question you must not ask, nor I answer." "But as a brother, I mean?" whispered Lyon. "Oh! yes, yes, yes! as a dear brother, I love you dearly," fervently exclaimed Rosa. "And as a dear sister you shall share my love and care always," earnestly answered Mr. Berners.
Never heard the legend of 'Dubarry's Fall'?" inquired Mr. Berners, with equal surprise. "Never, upon my word." "Well, it is an old tradition; forgotten like the family with whom it was connected.
I inclose documents which show that on Monday, the 4th of August, 1873, this George Harpwood, described and photographed, married Mary Berners, who now lives at Crescentville, a suburb of Philadelphia. She bears the name of Mrs. Mary Harpwood, and has not been divorced to her knowledge. Beside deserting her, Harpwood robbed her and reduced her to penury.
"Oh! there she is!" suddenly exclaimed Rosa. "Who?" "Sybil." "Where?" "There!" And Rosa pointed to one of the doors, at which Beatrix Pendleton, in Sybil's disguise, was just entering the room. "No matter! See! she has taken another direction from this, and will not be near you, dear child; so be at rest," said Lyon Berners soothingly. "Oh! I am so glad!
So little did Rosa Blondelle really care for Lyon Berners, and so truly did she estimate the value of her very luxurious home at Black Hall, that had she known the state of Sybil's mind, she would very quickly have put an end to her flirtation with the husband, and done all that she could to recover the confidence of the wife, and then looked out among the attractive young men of the neighborhood for another party to that sentimental, meaningless love-making, which was yet a necessity to her shallow life.
I will remember you and love you as long as I live for this," she said. "And so will I you, ma'am," he answered, and turned away to hide his tears. Lastly Lyon Berners rode up to where Farmer Nye stood apart. "Farewell, Farmer Nye! And may you indeed fare as well as your great heart deserves all your life," said Lyon.
Between Berners Street and the Circus I lent a shilling to a couple of young ladies who had just discovered with amusement, quickly swallowed by despair, that they neither of them had any money with them. At any other time I should have hesitated, argued with my fears, offered it with an appearance of sulky constraint, and been declined.
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