But his thoughts were not with this magnificent landscape. They wandered to the past days of peace and joy before the coming of the coquette had “made confusion” with the wedded pair. They wandered to the future, trying to penetrate the gloom and horror of its shadows. They flew to Black Hall, picturing the people, prevising the possibilities there.
How he longed for, yet dreaded the arrival of Captain Pendleton! Would there be danger in his coming through the open daylight? What news would he bring?
The verdict of the coroners jury? Against whom must this verdict be given? Lyon Berners shuddered away from answering this question. But it was also possible that before this the murderer might have been discovered and arrested. Should this surmise prove to be a fact, oh, what relief from anguish, what a happy return home for Sybil! If not—if the verdict should be rendered against her,—nothing but flight and exile remained to them.
While Lyon Berners wandered up and down like a restless ghost among the gravestones, his attention was suddenly arrested by the sound of a crackling tread breaking through the bushes. He turned quickly, expecting to see Captain Pendleton, but he saw his own servant instead.
“Joe!” he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise.
“Marser!” responded the man, in a voice of grief.
“You come from Captain Pendleton? What message does he send? How is it at the house? Has the coroner come? And oh! has any clue been found to the murderer?” anxiously inquired Mr. Berners.
“No, marser, no clue an’t been found to no murderer. But the house up there is full of crowners and constables, as if it was the county court house, and Cappin Pendulum managing everything.”
“He sent you to me?”
“No, marser, nor likewise knowed I come.”