Cruel As The Grave Part 43

"Really? 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 heard it in my childhood; but it had slipped my memory until your graphic description of the gipsy girl in the red cloak recalled it to my mind, and led me to believe that your knowledge of the legend had so impressed your imagination as to make it conjure up the heroine of the legend."

"What is the legend? Do tell me, Lyon."

"Not now, dearest. You must first have some coffee, which a faithful friend has provided for us."

"Captain Pendleton?" eagerly inquired Sybil.

"No, dear, our servant Joe. I do not expect to see Captain Pendleton until nightfall," added Lyon Berners, for he tried to antic.i.p.ate and prevent any troublesome questions that Sybil might ask, as he wished to save her from needless additional pain as long as he possibly could.

"And Joe is here with us?" inquired Sybil, cheerfully.

"No, dear; he has returned home; but will come again to-night."

"But what news did he bring?"

"None. We will hear from Captain Pendleton to-night. Now you must have some coffee; and then I will tell you the 'Legend of the Haunted Chapel'; for that legend, Sybil, may well account for your vision, whether we look on it from my point of view or from yours--as illusion or reality," said Lyon Berners.

"Or, stay," he added, reflectively; "it is too cold for you to sup in the open air. I will bring the things in here."

"Well, let me go with you, to help to bring them in, at least," pleaded Sybil.

"What! are you really afraid to stay here alone?" inquired Lyon, smiling, with an attempt at pleasantry.

"No, indeed; but all smells mouldy inside this old church. At least it does since the sun set, and I would like to go out and get a breath of fresh air," replied Sybil, quite seriously.

"Come, then," said Lyon.

They went out together.

The fire that had been built by Joe was now burnt down to embers; but the coffee-pot sat upon these embers, and the coffee was hot.

Lyon Berners took it up, while Sybil loaded herself with crockery ware and cutlery.

They had turned to go back to the church, when Sybil uttered a half-suppressed cry, and nearly dropped her burden.

"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Berners.

"Look!" exclaimed Sybil.

"Where?"

"At the east window."

Mr. Berners raised his eyes just in time to see a weird young face, with wild black hair, and a bright red mantle, flash downward from the window, as if it had dropped to the floor.

There was no dream now; not even an optical illusion. The reality of the vision was unquestionable.

"This is most strange," exclaimed Mr. Berners.

"It is the same face that bent over me, and woke me up," answered Sybil, with a shudder.

"It is some one who is concealed in the church, and whom we shall be sure to discover, for there is but one exit, by the front door; and if she comes out of that, we shall see her; or if she remains in the building, we shall be sure to find her there. Since I saw the face drop from the window, I have carefully watched the door. Do you also watch it, my dear Sybil; so that the creature, whatever it is, may not pa.s.s us," said Mr. Berners, as he strode on rapidly towards the church, followed by his wife.

They entered together, and looked eagerly around.

Though the sun had set some ten minutes before, yet the "after glow"

shone in through the six tall gothic window s.p.a.ces, and revealed clearly every nook and corner of the interior. Their strange inmate or visitor, whichever she might be, was nowhere to be seen.

With an impatient gesture, Mr. Berners set down the coffee-pot, and hurried towards the door of the vault, and looked through the iron grating. But he could see nothing but the top of those stairs, the bottom of which disappeared in the darkness.

He then shook the door; but it firmly resisted all his strength. The bars appeared to be built into the solid masonry.

"This is really confounding to all one's intelligence," exclaimed Lyon Berners, gazing around in perplexity.

"It is, indeed. But it is well that you have seen this mystery with your own eyes, for if you had not done so, you never would have believed in it," said Sybil, gravely shaking her head.

"Nor do I believe in it, now that I have seen it."

"Then you will not trust the united evidence of your own eyes and mine."

"No, Sybil; not for a prodigy so out of nature as that would be,"

replied Lyon Berners, firmly.

"Well, then, tell me the legend of the Haunted Chapel, for you hinted that that legend must have some connection with this apparition."

"A seeming connection, at the very least; but I cannot tell it to you now--not until you take something to eat and drink, for you have not broken your fast since morning."

"Nor have I hungered since morning," replied Sybil, with a sigh.

Mr. Berners went up to the smouldering embers of the fire that he had lighted in the morning on the stone floor of the church; and he drew together the dying brands, put fresh fuel on them, and soon rekindled the flame.

And the husband and wife sat down beside it; and while Sybil ate and drank with what appet.i.te she could bring to the repast, Lyon Berners, to pa.s.s off the heavy time, related to her the legend of the Haunted Chapel.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE FALL OF THE DUBARRYS.

But, soft! behold, lo, where it comes again!

I'll cross it, though it blast me.--Stay, illusion!

If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, Speak to me!--SHAKESPEARE.