He stood before her unable to proceed. It was terrible to him to witness her utter unconsciousness of her own position—more terrible still to be obliged to arouse her from it.
She continued to regard him with curiosity, but without anxiety, waiting silently for what he should say to her.
“Sybil,” he said at length, as soon as he was able to speak—“Sybil, you are a brave and strong spirit! You can meet a sudden calamity without sinking under it.”
“What is it?” inquired his wife, in a low tone.
“Sybil, dearest Sybil! there is no time to break the bad news to you; brace yourself to hear it abruptly.”
“Yes! tell me.”
“Sybil, listen, and comprehend. The circumstances that surround this mysterious murder are of a character to compromise you so seriously, that you may only find safety in immediate flight.”
“Me!—flight!” exclaimed Mrs. Berners, dilating her dark eyes in amazement.
Mr. Berners groaned in the spirit, as he replied:
“Yes, Sybil, yes! Oh! my dearest, attend and understand, and be strong! Sybil, hear. The quarrel you were known to have had with this poor woman; the threats you used on that occasion; the dagger in your hand; the blood oh your wrist, and above all the words of the dying woman charging you with her death. All these form a chain of circumstantial and even direct evidence that will drag you down—I cannot say it!” burst forth Lyon in an accession of agony.