“What? Who? Pendleton asleep among the gravestones? Say that again. I don’t understand.”
Sybil briefly repeated her statement.
Lyon started up, shook himself as if to arouse all his faculties, and then went and douched his head and face with cold water, and finally, as he dried them, he turned to Sybil and said:
“What is all this that you tell me? Where is Pendleton? Come and show me.”
Sybil led the way to the spot where their friend lay in his heavy sleep.
“Good Heaven! He must have fallen down, or sunk down here, within three minutes of leaving the church!” exclaimed Lyon Berners, gazing on the sleeper.
“Something must have happened to us all, dear Lyon. Do you remember how unreasonably gay we all were at supper last evening? We, too, who had every reason to be very grave and even sad? And do you remember the reaction? When we all grew so drowsy that we could hardly keep our eyes open? And then there was something else, which I will tell you of by and by. And now we have all slept fifteen or sixteen hours. Something strange has happened to us, Lyon,” said Sybil, slowly.
“Something has, indeed. But now we must arouse Pendleton. Good Heaven! he may have caught his death by sleeping out all night,” exclaimed Mr. Berners, as he stooped down and shook the sleeper.
But it was not without difficulty that Lyon succeeded in arousing Captain Pendleton, who, when he was fairly upon his feet, reeled like a drunken man.
“Pendleton, Pendleton, wake up! What, man! what has happened to you?” exclaimed Lyon, trying to steady the other upon his feet.