During the latter part of his speech the wife had started to her feet, and now she stood staring at him, amazed, incredulous, yet firm and brave.
“Rouse yourself to the occasion, Sybil! Oh! for my sake, for Heaven’s sake, collect your faculties and prepare for flight,” he passionately urged.
“I am innocent, and yet I must fly like the guilty! Lyon, for your sake, and only for yours, I will do it,” she answered gravely, and sadly.
“We must not call assistance, nor stop to compliment each other. Pack quickly up what you will most need for yourself, in a travelling bag, and I will do the same for myself,” explained Lyon Berners, suiting the action to the word by shoving into his valise some valuable papers, money, razors, a few articles of clothing, etc.
Sybil showed more promptitude and presence of mind than might have been expected of her. She quickly collected her costly jewels and ready money, a change of under clothing, combs, and brushes, and packed them in a small travelling bag.
“We go on horseback,” quickly explained Lyon Berners, as he locked his valise.
Swiftly and silently Sybil threw off her masquerading dress, that she had unconsciously worn until now, and dropped it on the floor, where it lay glowing like a smouldering bonfire. She then put on a water-proof riding habit, and announced herself ready.
“Come, then,” said Lyon Berners, taking up both bags, and beckoning her to follow him silently.
They slipped down the dark stairs and through the deserted halls, and reached the back door, where, under the shelter of a large hemlock-tree, Captain Pendleton held the horses. It was dark as pitch, and drizzling rain. They could see nothing, they could only know the whereabouts of their “friend in need,” and their horses, by hearing Captain Pendleton’s voice speaking through the mist in cautious tones, and whispering:
“Lock the door after you, Berners, so as to secure us from intrusion from within. And then stop there under the porch until I come and talk to you.”