"And now," said Ishmael Worth, drawing from his breast pocket a sealed parcel directed to the sheriff of the county, "I must take this document to Mr. Fortescue at once."
"I will not detain you, then. A thousand thanks for your kindness! I pray Heaven that some day I may be able to return it," fervently exclaimed Lyon Berners, rising from his chair.
Ishmael Worth took his hand and held it while he looked earnestly in his face, and said:
"You have every good reason now to hope for the best; so much reason not only to hope, but to feel assured of her release, that I should counsel you to begin at once your preparations to leave the country, so as to be able to start on your voyage with her immediately after the pardon arrives."
"Thanks for your words of comfort! Thanks for your counsel! I always leave your presence, Mr. Worth, with new life!" warmly exclaimed Lyon Berners, cordially grasping and shaking the hands that held his own.
Then Ishmael Worth took leave and went away.
Lyon Berners returned to the cell of his wife. He was admitted by the turnkey in attendance.
He found Sybil fast asleep, on the outside of her bed. Beatrix was sitting by her, strumming low, soft notes on the guitar as an accompaniment to a soothing air that she was singing.
"What news?" exclaimed the young lady in half-suppressed eagerness.
"There is a respite for an indefinite period, that Mr. Worth thinks is a certain prelude to a future pardon," answered Mr. Berners, seating himself beside his wife's bedside.