CHAPTER XXX.

SIBYL'S DOOM.

"Great Heaven! how could thy vengeance light So bitterly on one so bright? How could the hand that gave such charms, Blast them again in Love's own arms?"--MOORE.

As Stafford had said, a subp[oe]na was served on Mrs. Brantwell, to be present at the great trial about which everybody was talking. That good lady, who had determined already to go, regarded it as a useless ceremony; but Fate seemed determined to deprive her of that melancholy consolation, for two days before the eventful one on which the trial was to take place, poor Mrs. Brantwell, worn out by excitement and constant weeping, was seized with such a violent sick headache, that she was utterly unable to leave her bed. In vain, when the day "big with fate" came, did she attempt to rise. At the first effort she was seized with such a deadly faintness--such a blinding giddiness, that she was instantly forced to go to bed again. And there, half delirious, with her head throbbing and beating like mad, she was forced to lie, while her physician wrote a certificate of her inability to attend, which Mr. Brantwell was to convey to Westport.

How that day passed, and the next, and the next, Mrs. Brantwell never knew. Lying in her darkened chamber, with bandages wet with vinegar bound around her burning forehead, with servants tiptoeing in and out, and speaking in hushed whispers, the time passed as it does in a dream. With her mind as well as her body utterly prostrate, she was spared the suspense concerning the position of Sibyl she must otherwise have suffered.

But on the fourth day, Saturday, though weak and languid, she was able to rise, and, with the assistance of Jenny, descended to the parlor, where, smothered in shawls, she lay rocking back and forth in her large easy chair.

And now, recovered from the first prostration of bodily illness, she thought of the time that had passed, and began to feel all the tortures of doubt and agonizing suspense again. Sibyl's trial must be over by this time, and--_what had been the result?_

So unendurable grew this uncertainty, that she was about to dispatch a messenger to Westport to learn the result of the trial, when the clatter of horses' hoofs before the door arrested her attention, and the next instant the door was thrown open, and Will Stafford stood before her.

Yes, Will Stafford; but so changed that she almost screamed as she saw him. Worn, haggard, and ghastly; with convulsed brow, white lips, and despairing eyes; with such a look of passionate grief, anguish, and despair that the scream was frozen on her lips; and white, rigid, and speechless, she stood staring, unable to utter a word.

Without speaking, almost without looking at her, he threw himself into a chair, and buried his face in his hands.

Oh! what meant that look, that action, that ominous silence? For one moment the sight seemed leaving Mrs. Brantwell's eyes--the power of life seemed dying out in her heart; but by a mighty effort of her will she resisted the deadly faintness that was creeping over her, and asked, in a voice so low and tremulous, that it was almost inaudible:

"What of Sibyl?"

A groan, that seemed to rend the heart from which it came, burst from the lips of Stafford.

"What of Sibyl?" repeated Mrs. Brantwell, breathing hard, in her effort to be calm.

"Oh! Mrs. Brantwell, do not ask!" exclaimed Stafford, in a stifling voice.

"Sibyl, Sibyl!" were the only words the white, quivering lips could utter.

"Oh! how can I tell her?" cried Stafford, springing up, and wildly beginning to pace the room.

"Sibyl! what of her?" wailed Mrs. Brantwell, pressing her hands to her heart.

"Sibyl is--oh, Heaven? how can I speak the terrible words?" exclaimed the excited young man, pacing up and down like one demented.

"Heavens! will you tell me before I go mad?" cried Mrs. Brantwell, becoming as much excited as himself.

"Then listen--since I must repeat her awful fate! Sibyl has been tried, convicted, and _doomed to die_!"

The look that Mrs. Brantwell's face wore that moment, never left the memory of Will Stafford. There was a sound as of many waters in her ears, a sudden darkness before her eyes, her brain reeled, and her head dropped helplessly on the arm of her chair.

Stafford, in alarm, flew to the bell; but overcoming, with a mighty effort, that deadly inclination to swoon, she lifted up her head, and half raised her hand, in a faint motion to stop him.

"I want nothing; it is over," she said, tremulously. "Sit down before me and tell me all. The worst is over, and I can bear anything now."

"Oh! it was horrible, monstrous, outrageous, this sentence," exclaimed Stafford, with a burst of passionate grief. "I never dreamed for an instant--never did--that she would be condemned. Oh, curse that Courtney! Heaven's malediction rest on him, here and hereafter!" he hissed through his clenched teeth.

"Tell me all! Oh, tell me all!" said Mrs. Brantwell, trying to steady her trembling voice.

"I wish I could! I came for that purpose; but I am going mad, I think," said Stafford, throwing himself into a chair with something like a howl of mingled rage and despair. "_She_ told me to come and tell you; nothing else could have made me leave Westport while she lives."

"Was it Sibyl?"

"Yes; Mr. Brantwell could not travel as fast as I could, and will not be here till to-morrow, and I--oh! I rode as if the old demon were at my heels all the way--and I'll never rest easy again till I've put a bullet through Courtney's brain; for, he's the cause of it all, with his diabolical circumstantial evidence," exclaimed Stafford, with still increasing vehemence.

"Mr. Stafford, do give me the particulars!"

"You know the trial was to commence on Tuesday?"

"Yes."

"Well, as soon as the doors of the court-house were thrown open, the galleries, and staircases, and every corner of the building were filled to suffocation by an eager crowd. I got in among the rest of the rabble, and secured a good place where I could see and hear everything. Owing to some cause or other, the people had to wait a good while; and just as they were getting clamorous and impatient, they saw the carriage making its way slowly through the mass of people that lined and crowded the streets, unable to obtain an entrance into the court-house. Then every one was on tiptoe with expectation to see the prisoner, the fame of whose wealth and beauty, and the strange circumstances attending her arrest, had been blazoned the whole country round. It was with the greatest difficulty that a passage could be forced through the crowd as she entered, dressed in deepest black, closely veiled, and in the custody of the high sheriff. Captain Campbell and Drummond followed closely after, and took their places near her. As she took her seat, you might have heard a pin drop, so intense was the silence; but when, a moment after, she threw back her vail, and her pale, beautiful face, with its dark, proud, scornful eyes, that went wandering for an instant round with contemptuous disdain for the gaping crowd, a low, deep murmur of admiration, surprise, and pity, passed through the vast assemblage of human beings; and the next instant they were profoundly still once more.

"The jury were already impaneled, and the presiding judge, and the State attorney, and Sibyl's counsel, had taken their places, so the trial immediately commenced. When the clerk of the court put the customary question--'Guilty or not guilty'--I wish you had seen the slender form of Sibyl tower aloft, and her glorious eyes flash, and her beautiful lip curl with scorn and disdain, as she answered:

"'_Not_ guilty! your honor.'

"There is no use in my telling you the State attorney's charge. You'll see it all in the papers, if you have any curiosity on the subject. All I need say is, that it seemed to destroy every favorable impression made on the minds of the jury by the youth, beauty, and sex of the prisoner. He spoke of the pain it gave him to be obliged to make this charge against a woman, whose interesting appearance he saw had already made a deep impression on the minds of all present; but he trusted the gentlemen of the jury would not allow themselves to be carried away by their feelings, for 'appearances were often deceitful;' and he made a long preamble about demons wearing the forms of angels of light, and of the crimes other women, gentle and loving before, had been induced to commit in sudden paroxysms of jealousy--as this crime had been--as he was prepared to prove. He spoke of many cases of women--some of which had come under his own immediate knowledge--of women stabbing themselves, their lovers, their rivals, in fits of jealous passion. He spoke of the well-known jealousy and vindictiveness that had ever characterized the race from which the interesting prisoner at the bar had sprung, and that he would soon show that she had been ever noted--even since childhood--for these same faults. Then he drew a pathetic picture of the victim--her youth, her gentleness, her trusting simplicity--until every woman present was sobbing as if her heart would break. But when he concluded by saying that the murdered girl was the wife of the prisoner's lover--married to him in secret, as he would shortly prove--a thrill ran through every heart."

"_His wife!_" exclaimed Mrs. Brantwell, looking up in dismay and incredulity.

"Yes, Mrs. Brantwell, his wife; and she _was_, too," said Stafford, sorrowfully. "When Willard Drummond--who had all this time been standing motionless, his hat drawn over his brow--heard the words, he started, reeled, and turned as deadly white as if he had received a pistol-shot through the heart. Sibyl lifted her wild, black eyes, and reading in that look, that action, the truth of the words, with a long, low cry dropped her face in her hands, with such a look of utter despair, that every heart stood still. Captain Campbell sprang up as if some one had speared him, and would have throttled Drummond on the spot, I firmly believe, if a policeman had not interfered, and held him back.

"The first witness called was an old Methodist minister, who deposed, on oath, that he had married Willard Drummond--whom he promptly identified--to a young girl called Christina Tomlinson, about a year and a half previously, as nearly as he could then recollect. They were married at night, without attendants; and the bride seemed very much frightened. He concluded by giving a description of her, which exactly tallied with that of little Christie.

"Mrs. Tom was then called, and affirmed that on the night in question, Christie had gone to Westport with Drummond; and when they returned late at night, she found her niece lying senseless in his arms, which circumstance he accounted for by some plausible reason she had now forgotten. Being cross-examined, she affirmed that the deceased and the young man Drummond were always together, after the prisoner left the island; and she, Mrs. Tom, not liking their intimacy, had endeavored to put a stop to it, but in vain. She could not swear positively that her niece and Miss Campbell were bad friends, but she did not think they were on good terms; and her principal reason for ending the intimacy between the deceased and Mr. Drummond, had been the fear of the prisoner's anger, which she knew, when excited, was extremely violent. That on the night of the murder the deceased had appeared out of spirits, and complaining of a headache, had retired early. That when she awoke in the morning she found her gone, and the house-door open, things which had never happened before. That she had no suspicions of the truth, until Miss Campbell came in and told her her niece was murdered. That thereupon they had gone down to the beach together, and she had identified a handkerchief belonging to her niece, marked with her name, deeply clotted with blood. That the prisoner--who had never hitherto appeared to care for Christie--seemed deeply, almost wildly agitated that morning, which had surprised her (the witness) not a little at the time.

"Mrs. Tom was then dismissed, and Captain Campbell was called to take the stand. A low murmur of sympathy ran around as they observed his pale and haggard face; and all listened with breathless interest to the testimony he reluctantly gave. He said that on the evening of the murder, being on the island, Christie had approached and given him a note, which she directed him to give to his sister. That he had done so; and that Sibyl had appeared violently agitated upon receiving it, and impetuously insisted upon going to the island that night. That he had urged her not to go, but she had insisted; and upon his telling her Carl Henley was going over that evening, she had said she would accompany him; and he had then left the room, and he did not see her again for upward of a fortnight.

"Carl Henley next took the stand, and after the usual oath, stated that on the evening of the murder he had taken Sibyl across to the island. That in the boat she had talked wildly, though he could not recollect what she had said. That she had left him when they had reached the shore, and had run up the rocks, through the storm, in the direction of the lodge. That he had returned to the cottage; and shortly after went to bed, leaving 'Aunt Tom,' as he called her, and Christie down stairs. That about midnight, being awakened by the violence of the storm, he had got up and distinctly heard a cry of 'murder,' though whether it was in Christie's voice or not, he could not say. That a moment after, by the light of a flash of lightning, he had seen a woman flying past, with long black hair streaming behind her, 'jest like her,' he expressed himself, pointing to Sibyl. Being cross-examined, he swore positively to seeing the woman, whom he said he took, at the time, to be Sibyl; and nothing her counsel could say could weaken his testimony in the least.

"There were several other witnesses examined; but though I have forgotten their testimony, it all went to prove that Christie was beloved by everybody who knew her but Sibyl; that she had not an enemy in the world but Sibyl. Among others, came that infernal Courtney, who swore positively that he knew Sibyl to be jealous of Christie; and in proof of which, adduced several circumstances that seemed to have a great deal of weight with the bench; that Sibyl's agitation upon receiving Christie's note was so palpable, that he began to have misgivings on the spot; that when he beheld her, the following day, after coming from the island, she seemed like one deprived of reason, as if 'remorse for some crime' preyed upon her. Oh! I could have strangled the white-livered villain on the spot," said Stafford, grinding his teeth. "Then the court was adjourned until the following day, and the prisoner removed.

"Next day it was the same. There was little new evidence against Sibyl; but it seemed clear to all that the jury had already made up their minds as to her guilt; and that her youth and beauty only seemed to aggravate her crime.

"Then the defense was taken up; and Mr. P---- made a very good speech, and did all he could to disabuse the minds of the jury, but it was like beating the air. He did all he could, but that was too little to save Sibyl.

"The State attorney rose again, and set aside all P.'s arguments in a cool, contemptuous manner, that carried conviction to the minds of the spectators. And then the judge arose to sum up the evidence and charge the jury. In his mind there seemed not the faintest shadow of a doubt as to the guilt of the prisoner, I cannot remember what he said; but I know, despite his gray hairs, I felt a demoniacal desire to knock him down all the time he was speaking. Then the jury withdrew to deliberate; and during their brief absence the silence of death reigned in that crowded court-room. Every eye was bent upon Sibyl; but after hearing of Willard's marriage she never lifted her head. It was as if the heaviest blow that could possibly befall her had passed, and life or death mattered nothing to her now.

"The jury was not absent ten minutes ere they returned. Their sudden entrance was ominous; but their grave, stern faces were more ominous still. I had to grasp the arm of a man beside whom I stood, for I felt myself trembling in every limb. The jurors all stood erect, and every breath seemed suspended.

"'Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?' asked the venerable judge.

"'We have, your honor,' responded the foreman.

"'How say you, then? Is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty of the crime with which she is charged?'

"'Guilty!' was the awful response.

"At that word, there rose a cry that thrilled through every heart; and Willard Drummond, like a man possessed of a demon, fled from the house, while the appalled crowd fell back in turn before him. A dreadful silence followed; and then the judge arose, and in a voice that trembled in spite of himself, said:

"'Prisoner, arise, and receive the sentence of the law.'

"Every breath was suspended, every voice was hushed, but the prisoner neither moved nor stirred. She seemed frozen into the attitude in which she had fallen, at the news of Willard Drummond's perfidy.

"Mr. Brantwell, who was standing near, with a face pale with deepest pity, touched her on the shoulder, and said, in a faltering voice:

"'Sibyl, my dearest girl, arise; let me assist you.'

"He took her arm and supported her to her feet; but when she lifted her head, all beheld a face so cold, so white, so rigid, with such frozen eyes and colorless lips, such an awful look of woman's deepest woe, that every face grew pale, and every eye was filled with tears. As for me, I felt as if I were going mad. I heard the judge saying something--to save my soul I could not tell what, until the last awful words met my ears:

"'Prisoner, the sentence of the court is, that you be taken hence to the prison from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, and that there you be hanged by the neck until you are dead!'

"I could listen no longer. How I burst from the crowd I know not, but I reached the open air frantic, almost maddened. The crowd poured out after me, and presently the prisoner appeared, between your husband, her brother, and the sheriff.

"I saw no one but Sibyl. Her face wore the same fixed, stony look it had done when she arose--not a muscle had quivered. It was evident she heard not, cared not for the awful doom about to befall her. I broke through the crowd like a madman, until I stood before her.

"'Sibyl--Sibyl!' I cried out.

"Something in my tone arrested her, and she looked vacantly at me. She passed her hand across her forehead, as if to clear away a mist, and then said, in a low, dreamy tone:

"'Ah, Mr. Stafford, I have a request to make of you.'

"'What is it?' I asked, scarcely able to speak.

"'Hasten to my dear friend, Mrs. Brantwell, and tell her what has happened; but, tell her not to be sorry for me, for it is better as it is. Guy, I am tired; take me away.'

"She said all this in a strange, weary tone, like one that is bewildered. I saw them help her into a coach, saw it driven away; and then I went to the hotel, feeling--well, it's no use trying now to tell you how I felt. Long before daylight this morning, I started to come here--and that is all."