Mr. Fortescue soon came up.
"Mr. Berners," he said, in a broken voice, "I am an old man, and I had rather die than do my present duty."
"Oh, do what must be done, do it at once, do it yourself, for no one else would do it so kindly," answered Lyon Berners.
"You know where I must take her?"
"Certainly."
"Then draw her arm through your own and follow me. She will go more quietly with you than with me," said the sheriff.
They had spoken in a very low tone, in order to spare Sybil, though they scarcely needed to have taken the precaution; for she was paying no attention to anything that was passing around her. She sat leaning back, with a look of utter weariness and stupor on her beautiful, pale face.
He raised her up, drew her hand through his arm, and whispered:
"Come, my darling, we are going now."
This roused her a little. She looked around for her party, and saw Beatrix Pendleton sitting with her face buried in her handkerchief, as she had sat since the rendering of the verdict.