CHAPTER XXXI.
THE ARREST.
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Had it pleased Heaven To try me with affliction; had He rained All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head; Steeped me in poverty to the very lips; I could have found in some part of my soul A drop of patience; but alas, to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow, unmoving finger at!—Shakespeare. |
“Save me! Oh, save me!” she continued to cry, clinging wildly to her husband’s bosom. “Save me from this deep degradation! This degradation worse than death!”
And it is certain that if the immediate sacrifice of his own life could have saved her, Lyon Berners would have willingly died for Sybil; or even if the drowning of that law officer could have delivered her, he would have incontinently pitched the man overboard; but as neither of these violent-means could possibly have served her, he could only clasp her closer to his heart, and consider what was to be done.
At length he looked up at the sheriff’s officer, and said:
“I wish to have a word alone with my wife, if you will permit me.”
The man hesitated.
“You can do it with perfect safety. We cannot possibly escape from this ship, you know; and besides, you can keep us in sight,” he added.