"Martin," added the sheriff.
"—Mr. Martin; but the suddenness of this thunder-*storm, you know. And we were all at church, and—"
She lost the connection of her ideas, ceased to speak, put her hand to her forehead in perplexity for a moment, and then relapsed into apathetic reverie.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed the old warden, in dismay. "Why, she's a losing of her mind, an't she?"
"Yes, thank Heaven!" answered Sybil's husband earnestly.
"But—but—in such a case they will never carry the sentence out?" inquired the warden, in an eager whisper.
"Yes, they will; but she will never know what hurts her," grimly replied Captain Pendleton.
The old warden sighed. And then he warned the visitors that it was time for them to go, as he wanted to lock up the prison for the night.
"Is it not possible that I remain with my wife to-night? You see her condition," said Lyon Berners, appealing to the sheriff and the warden, and pointing to poor Sybil, whose wildly dilated eyes were fixed upon vacancy, while her fingers idly played with the gray curls of the little Skye terrier on her lap.
"Mr. Berners, my heart bleeds at refusing you anything in this hour of bitter sorrow; but—" began the sheriff.