“Then the captain says we must be in a hurry. So if there is anything you wish to have removed, you had better attend to it at once,” said the man.
“I do not wish to leave the side of my wife for an instant; so if you would be so kind as to speak to the captain and ask him to have our luggage removed from our state-room and put upon the boat, I should feel much obliged.”
Leaving his companion in charge of the prisoner, the senior officer went forward and gave his message. And the captain, with a seaman-like promptness, immediately executed the order.
Then Sybil’s hat and cloak were brought her from the cabin, and she put them on and suffered herself to be led by her husband, and helped down to the boat. The Sheriff’s officers followed, and when all were seated, the two boatmen laid to their oars, and the boat was rowed swiftly towards shore.
The husband and the wife sat side by side in the stern of the boat. His arm was wound around her waist, and her head was resting on his shoulder. No word was spoken between them in the presence of these strangers; but he was silently giving her all the support in his power, and she was really needing it all, for she was utterly overcome; not by the terrors of imprisonment or death, but by something infinitely worse, the horror of degradation.
All this time too Lyon Berners was maturing in his own mind a plan for her deliverance, which he was determined to begin to carry out as soon as they should reach the shore.
In a few minutes more the boat touched the wharf, and the party landed.
“I must trouble you to take my arm, Mrs. Berners,” said the Sheriff’s officer, drawing Sybil’s hand under his elbow.
She would have shrunk back, but Lyon looked at her significantly, and she submitted.
“Where do you mean to take us first?” inquired Mr. Berners, in a low tone.