"When did you see her last?"
"The last time I ever set eyes on her face, was when she was lying on her bed in her cell, and I went and laid the baby by her; that was just before the water rushed in. I an't set eyes on her face or the baby's face since."
And this was literally true, for Miss Tabby had not seen their faces in the boat. But those who had not the key to her meaning, could not detect the equivocation.
She was cunning enough in her foolishness to keep her oath, and to leave upon the minds of her hearers the impression that Sybil and her young child were certainly lost.
But Miss Tabby had a tender conscience as well as a soft heart and a weak head, and the keeping of this secret, which she could not divulge without breaking her oath, nor conceal without trifling with the truth, caused her so much distress, that these frequent cross-examinations invariably ended, on her part, in a fit of hysterics.
This was the state of affairs on Christmas Eve following the great flood.
It was the saddest Christmas ever passed at Black Hall.
Mr. Berners had invited no one, not even his most intimate friends, to spend it with him.
But Captain Pendleton and Beatrix had come uninvited, for they were determined that Lyon Berners should not be left alone in his sorrow at such a time.
"We have rejoiced with you in many a Christmas holiday. Shall we not come and mourn with you now?" Beatrix gently inquired, as with her brother she entered the parlor, where Mr. Berners on this Christmas Eve was grieving alone.