CHAPTER IV.
THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER.
"From the glance of her eye
Shun danger and fly,
for fatal's the glance."
Very happy were the married lovers as they sat over their tea, even
though the scene of their domestic joy was just now but an inn-parlor.
Both the young people had good appetites: gratified love had not
deprived them of that.
They talked of their homeward journey and how pleasant it would be in
this glorious autumn weather, and of their home and how glad they would
be to reach it--yes, how glad! For, paradoxical as it may seem to say
so, there is no happiness so perfect as that which looks forward to
something still more perfect, if such could be possible in the future.
They talked of the Black Valley, and how beautiful even that would look
in its gorgeous October livery.
Suddenly in the midst of their sweet converse they heard the sound of
weeping--low, deep, heart-broken weeping.
Both paused, looked at each other and listened.
The sound seemed to come from a room on the opposite side of the passage
to their own apartment.
"What is that?" inquired Sybil, looking up to her husband's face.
"It seems to be some woman in distress," answered Lyon.
"Oh! see what it is, dear, will you?" entreated Sybil.
She was herself so happy, that it was really dreadful to be reminded
just then that sorrow should exist in this world; at all.
"Oh, go and see what is the matter. Do, dear," she insisted, seeing that
he hesitated.
"I would do so, dear, in a moment, but it might be indiscreet on my
part. The lady may be a party to some little domestic misunderstanding,
with which it would be impertinent in any stranger to interfere,"
answered the more thoughtful husband.
"A domestic misunderstanding! O, dear Lyon, that such things should be!
Fancy you and I having a misunderstanding!" exclaimed Sybil, with a
shiver.
"I cannot fancy anything of the sort, my darling; Heaven forbid that I
could!" said Lyon, fervently.
"Amen to that! But listen! Ah! how she weeps and wails! Oh, Lyon, how I
pity her! Oh, how I wish I could do something for her! Oh, Lyon, are you
sure it would be improper for me to go and see if I can relieve her in
any way?" pleaded Sybil.
"Quite sure, my darling; I am quite sure that you must not interfere, at
least at this stage. If this should be a case in which we can be of
service, we shall be likely to know it when the waiter answers the bell
that I rung some five minutes since," said Lyon, soothingly.
But Sybil could not rest with the sound of that weeping and wailing in
her ears. She left her chair and began to walk up and down the floor,
and to pause occasionally at her door to listen.
Suddenly a door on the opposite side of the passage opened, and the
voice of the landlord was heard, apparently speaking to the weeping
woman.
"I beg you won't distress yourself, ma'am; I am sure I wouldn't do
anything to distress you for the world. Keep up your spirits, ma'am.
Something may turn up yet, you know," he said as he closed the opposite
door again; and then crossing the passage, he knocked at the door of the
Berners' apartments.
"Come in," said Lyon Berners eagerly, while Sybil paused in her restless
walk and gazed breathlessly at the door.
Both were so interested, they could not have told why, in that weeping
woman.
The landlord entered and closed the door behind him, and advanced with a
bow and an apology.
"I am afraid that you and your good lady have been disturbed by the
noise in the other room; but really I could not help it. I have done all
I could to comfort the poor creature; but really you know, 'Rachel
weeping for her children' was nothing to this woman. She's been going on
in this way for the last three days, sir. I did hope she would be quiet
this evening. I told her that I had guests in these rooms. But, Lord,
sir! I might just as well try to reason with a thunderstorm as with her.
I wish I had quieter rooms to put you in, sir."
"Pray do not think of us. It is not the disturbance we mind on our own
account; it is to hear a fellow creature in so much distress. A guest of
the house?" inquired Mr. Berners.
"Yes, sir; worse luck."
"She has lost friends or--fortune?" continued Berners delicately
investigating the case, while Sybil looked and listened with the deepest
interest.
"Both, sir! Both, sir! All, sir! Everything, sir! It is really a case of
atrocious villainy, sir! And I may say, a case of extreme difficulty as
well! A case in which I need counsel myself, sir," said the landlord,
with every appearance of being as willing to give information as to take
advice.